A Lovers' Complaint
by ElleThom
Summary: Yes the apostrophe play is on purpose. This is an AU, a what if that leaves out the finale. In chemistry, the best way to destroy a bond is by adding an unknown agent.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the start of a long one, and my first foray into this fandom, feeling a little meh about the start, but as usual like an old VW Shoraco, it takes me a while to get warmed up, but when i get there...**

**Enjoy guys**

FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded  
>A plaintful story from a sistering vale,<br>My spirits to attend this double voice accorded,  
>And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale;<br>Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale,  
>Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain,<br>Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.

W. Shakespeare

They stepped off the ancient battlefield among a heavy mist that seemed to seep into every cell of their bodies. A heady aroma of morning dew kissed wildflowers assaulted the trio, texturizing the moments as they paced to the car. He, stoic and tall marching as if the regiment were still behind him, holding onto his hard won prize as if it would be taken from him at any moment, and she, solid and heavy in her movements, just inches ahead of the other victor.

The car had been parked at the top of a steep slope. Abby turned with her hands in the universal symbol for assistance offered; which was met with blank determination.

Fuck it, she shrugged off the refusal silently and made her way to the top of the incline. She opened the car door and started the engine. Crane placed his prize onto the back seat and scooted himself to place her head in his lap. "Shouldn't we take her to a doctor?" He asked, long hands wrist deep in red.

Abbie watched him through the rearview mirror as she angled the car out of the tight spot. "Is she breathing?" the words came out far more flippantly than she had heard them in her head.

His hands ghosted over her angular features and chest. "Yes," he answered hesitantly.

"Any visible injuries?" She asked as she called the only person she could think of with any possible connection to a physician who knew how to keep his mouth shut.

Crane mumbled a negative from the back seat as Abbie put pedal to metal and prayed Jenny was in the country.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"What do you mean she 'just turned up?'" Jenny's voice had taken on the cadence of a high school principal trying to find out what really happened during recess; it threatened to transverse both the Khyber Pass and the naugahyde living room set.

Abbie rubbed her temples in the living room of the large brick house that Jenny had directed them to. The olive green paint matched the antiquated décor, replete with 35 inch wood panel television console and stereo cabinet. "I told you, Jenny, neither one of us had no idea she would be in that field last night. We were called out on lights in the sky—"

"What are you Mulder and Scully now?" Jenny smirked. "Lights in the sky is so twenty years ago. Seriously, no one knew she was coming?"

"It's not like she could have sent an email," It wasn't just the line of questioning that was getting to her, nor was it the fact that her partner was in some clandestine doctor's office with a woman who could teach Schrodinger's cat a few new tricks. Nor, in fact was it the retro living room they were shown to in lieu of a proper waiting room. "We were out in those woods beyond the old standpipe. You know the one?" Jenny nodded "There weren't any lights, but there were a hell of a lot of imps."

"The green ones?" Jenny asked with a memory of another night a few months back and of bites that took weeks to heal.

"Yeah," Abbie assured her.

"I hate those little bastards" Jenny offered with a visible shudder. "Wait, what were they doing there? How did she get there then?"

"You want to hear the story, or do you want to play Barbara Walters in this busted ass living room?" At Jenny's raised hands Abbie went on. "So the imps were everywhere…."

_xXx_

"_Lieutenant?" Crane spoke from behind her; It was a typical move for them in combat, back to back take everything out. _

"_Yeah, I see 'em" she quipped, her service pistol was only gonna take out 9 maybe ten if she was lucky. There were hundreds. She wondered if this is how she was to go out, death by hellish little creatures who looked like those aliens from that old movie 'Mars Attacks!' The full moon cast an eerie glow to their green, turning them fluorescent vomit in color. _

_Even though she could not see him, Abbie knew Crane had his sword poised ready to hit outta the park. Back to back she could feel the rapid thrum of his heart through his wool coat. "Okay, this is all kinds of FUBAR right now." Abbie felt his nod of acquiescence but knew damn well he had no idea what that acronym meant. _

_They stood that way for what seemed like hours before the first onslaught charged them. Crane let out a loud grunt as Abbie fired into the mass of imps. They clawed and crawled over each other, each scrabbling to get to the two of them. _

_She ran out of bullets and whipped the small axe from her belt. The blade made a sickening wet crunch as it sliced through their green skin._

"_They're still coming." Crane screamed at her as if she did not know that the minor army was hell was advancing. Abbie's arms were starting to give, she had lost count of how many she had felled and yet the numbers were not diminishing. In fact, it seemed as if more were coming. "Is this how it happens?" she thought again "Is this my reward for good and faithful service?" But, she neither ceased nor slowed. Neither one of them did. _

_It was Crane who fell first. The sound of his chopping was nearly soothing in its cadence with hers. As long as Abbie could hear his sword and intermittent battle cries, she knew she could keep going. When the last long howl ceased his sword play, Abbie lost her rhythm in slashing. The fetid stench of their bodies, both live and dead, had begun to take their toll on her. "Crane?" she called again then turned to look for him. His prone form was being carried off by a small horde of green goblins. _

_Her first instinct was to run after him, just as she turned, her legs fell from under her. Abbie found herself gasping the exact same frustrated cry that her partner had issued only moments before. _

_She met the ground as if they were old friends brought back together after years of estrangement. Surprising relief flooded her in the milliseconds before the gnarling horde descended on her. _

_As she felt her body succumbing to the inevitable smothering horde, Abbie felt herself being lifted and moved along the forest floor. _

_xXx_

"Wait, so these things were attacking you, you fought them, but instead of feasting on your flesh, they what? Took you on a magic carpet ride?"

Abbie let out a long sigh and wondered how long Crane would be back there with retro Doc. "They were taking us to Hell."

"How do you know that?" Jenny asked.

Abbie awarded her sister's denseness with a glance long practiced by older sisters throughout history. "They're imps, Jenny." Abbie insisted. "Where the hell else would they be taking us? Out to Sizzler's? And anyway they never got us there."

"Obviously, what happened? I mean no offense but if what you are telling me is the truth then I should be making funeral arrangements right now, not arguing with you about the thought processes of the modern imp. "

"Katrina happened, or at least I think she happened. When those things started carrying me, us" she said with a look toward the door that Crane and Katrina had disappeared through. "Within seconds I was out, completely trashed."

"Just like last time." Jenny said with a small nod.

"Just like last time." Abbie clipped. "When I woke we were sprawled out on the forest floor in the exact same spot we had had our battle, but nothing was disturbed. You would have never thought anything more than a picnic had happened there. "

"So you have no idea what happened after you were being taken off." Jenny asked. "What about Ichy? Does he remember anything?"

"He was a bit preoccupied at that point. I don't think it's really run through his head yet."

"He must be…." She trailed off with a shake of her head. "At least she's out, of Purgatory I mean." A pause, two, then "How do you feel about that?"

"I don't have to feel any kind of way about it, Jenny. He was married when he crawled out of that hole."

"Come on, Abs. Don't tell me you aren't feeling some type of way about all of this."

"We are not having this conversation." Abbie spoke. "The important thing here is that not only does Crane have his wife back, but we also now have a very powerful witch for Team Apocalypse. How she got here will be assessed and duly dealt with, without all the drama thank you."

"We still don't know where she came from."

"No, we do not." Abbie answered. "I just think that should be a priority is all I am saying."

Jenny opened her mouth to retort something snappy, but Abbie was saved by the emergence of Crane and the Doctor from the back of the house.

"Miss Mills, Miss Jenny, " he began. "Thank you so much for finding this physician of great ability and discretion."

"Don't worry about it, Ichy" Jenny smiled "How is she?"

The tall man's smile broadened to a radiance neither woman had seen before. "She is awake, well, and feeling herself. It was most advantageous we found ourselves out there last night Miss Mills. I shudder to think what would have come of her had we not been there."

"No shudderin' needed, Ichy." Jenny interjected with a grin. "At least not until later."

Abbie would have jabbed her sister quiet, but Jenny's little sister sixth sense moved her clear of any elder repercussions. instead, she opted to ignore the comment altogether. "Well, what the Doc say? She ready to go out into the great wide world or what?"

Crane nodded and turned just as Katrina Crane emerged through the door. Paler than what Abbie recalled, but somehow taller, she looked around the room like a rabbit in a new hutch.

Abbie plastered in her finest 'getting to know you' smile and crossed the Rubicon. "It's nice to finally meet you Mrs. Crane At least in—"

"—in the flesh, indeed Miss Mills. It is I who am honored to make your formal acquaintance." The newly freed woman grabbed her hands in hers and squeezed as if they were old friends. "In this most trying time, I am certain that we all shall fast become the most ardent of friends. We have much to accomplish." Katrina's eyes scanned the room panned the room. "All of us."

The two sisters exchanged a look silently acknowledging that yes, there were now two of them; perhaps an interpreter would be necessary. Jenny took the opportunity to wave by way of introduction and excused herself under the guise of settling up with the doctor.

"Well, I think, we should get you folks home, get you settled in Mrs. Crane—"

"Katrina, please." she insisted with that too familiar smile.

Ichabod stood, watching the two most important people in his life interacting with one another. He didn't notice the strain in Abbie's smile, or the hesitant way she took his hand when he offered it to her. He didn't notice the way she small like broken glass at the newly reunited couple. Instead of noticing any of these things, nor the nagging in his own head; Ichabod Crane grasped the hands of the two women he loved most and smiled obliviously.

"Let's go home." He said.


	2. Chapter 2

A thousand favours from a maund she drew  
>Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet,<br>Which one by one she in a river threw,  
>Upon whose weeping margent she was set;<br>Like usury, applying wet to wet,  
>Or monarch's hands that let not bounty fall<br>Where want cries some, but where excess begs all.

W. Shakespeare.

Two weeks of absolute bliss.

That's how long he had with Katrina, from the time they awoke side by side in that field until the moment he realized…..

Two weeks

Crane could pinpoint, in his head, the moment things began to slowly turn in his mind. If he was truthful with himself, it was on the ride from the physician's home, he and Katrina in the back seat of the car.

She lay, curved into his arms and he, holding onto her for dear life.

"This is an odd carriage." She had remarked breathily, he assumed, still a bit foggy from her journey.

"You will find, my love, that things here are strange. "

"I had so hoped, foolishly, that we could have been returned to our time. To live out our own lives in mediocrity," Katrina opined.

He understood her desire; he had had much the same thought in the last seven months. To stop, to simply lay down the mantle and never fight again, "It is enough to know that we will face this together."

Katrina smiled up at him and slipped her long slim hand into hers, and that was when his descent into damnation began.

He stepped in front of the slide and the instant realization that the hand that held his was different. Not from his wife's even over the two hundred years she spent in Purgatory, she was the same. The absolute same. But.

The hand was all wrong. Too smooth, to long, too…..

Crane tossed aside the thought with a shake of his head like an errant leaf in a windstorm. He was intensely happy to have his wife at his side again.

And yet.

Abbie had dropped them off at the cabin with the promise of a return with some supplies and the insistence of being \off the job' for as long as she could hold the apocalypse at bay without him.

He watched Abbie's forced smile set into a hard line of assurance as she turned back toward her car. He took advantage of his own height and reach as he leaned around Katrina and took Abbie's arm. Crane tried not to be offended at the look that crossed his partner's face as he pulled her into a hug. "Thank you, Miss Mills." He spoke into her hair. She hesitated into the contact but eventually he felt her relent, pull her arms around him and even return the tightness of grasp.

"Don't thank me," Abbie replied, a sharp cadence hidden within the fierce whisper aimed to only him. "After you've had some time, we need to figure out exactly how this happened."

He nodded, but said nothing as she let go and he felt the distance in the millimeters as she moved away. Abbie moved backward toward the car. "It's nice to finally meet you Mrs. Crane. " She tossed.

"Pleasure's mine, honestly." Katrina offered. "And thank you, for everything."

Abbie shrugged and opened her car door. The Cranes waved as her car moved along the gravel road and into the distance.

"You two are close." Katrina observed.

He placed long hands on her shoulders and kissed her with all the jubilation he had felt upon finding her that morning. Crane felt all the joy of every single Christmas he had ever woken to, all culminated into one moment. "We should go inside," he murmured close to her ear.

And yet, he could not place the dissidence of reality, she was his wife, everything he recalled, she was the same, even her scent had not changed, nor blemished in the time apart from her.

And yet.

In defiance of his own hesitance, he took her by the hand and led her into the cabin. "I have missed you." he spoke slowly, with intent.

Katrina smiled and took his hand as they walked into the cabin. Together.

xXx

Two weeks he spent with his wife, in the cabin. It was just as it had been the first time after they were married. Katrina cooked for him and he in turn began to introduce her into present day society as easily and gently as possible.

Abbie Mills Had been his anchor in his emergence from death. She had been his true north when no one thing could point him in a direction home. She was his first contact in the morning, and the last face he saw at night.

And yet.

The second day into their reunion and Crane heard Abbie's Propriety kept car horn from the road. Before, she would have just walked in, made coffee and herself at home. Now, he could sense the imaginary barrier that had been thrown up between them. Propriety kept Abbie in her car and at a safe and respectable distance from married couple. The rules had changed and he wondered if it was more than just Katrina's return that had caused it.

He waited for her to exit the car and realized she would not come to him.

"Miss Mills." he greeted her, noting she only opened the door when he emerged from the cabin.

Abbie could see the joy written in his face, his eyes held the spark of pure joy. "Hey, Crane, " she nodded toward the figure looking out of the window. "How is she?"

"Good, she is good. Acclimating better than I did in this brave new world. " he smiled. "And how are you?"

Abbie nodded and turned back to the car. "I brought some things. Clothes for your wife. Figured at some point you two would want to emerge from the friendly confines."

He took the bag from her hands and thanked her. He studied her face but found nothing to belie the joy at seeing him that he had felt when seeing her. |Is everything all right?" he asked.

Abbie sighed to gather strength. "When you have time, we need to discuss what happened the other day."

Crane nodded, had known this was coming. "I don't recall much of that time after we were being carted off." He announced without looking at her.

"Me neither," Abbie admitted, hoisting the box of supplies out of the back seat. "But I am wondering if your wife does. "

He turned, taking the box from her and spoke in quick clipped tones. "She's not ready to discuss it." He said.

"And you know this because you asked her?"

"I know because she is my wife, and I know her better than I know anyone in this world. "

Abbie flinched at the protective tone in his voice, his words came harsher than he realized and she cleared her throat as a warning. "I understand that, Crane, but look at this as we have looked at things that we have come across in the last seven months. This could be a harbinger of something."

"She is not a harbinger, she is a human being, flesh and blood, who has been through an experience that no one else has. She spent over two hundred years in absolute solitude and abysmal half life. I will not upset her."

"Okay," she nodded. "It can wait. But Crane, at some point we have to question her."

He readjusted the box of food and bag of clothes in his hands and turned away from her. "When the time comes, Miss Mills, I assure you we will. Until that time, she needs rest and succor from the hardships she has had to deal with. "

"Uh huh." Abbie spit back, sliding into the front seat. "|'ll ca;; when shit gets real again."

"You do that," he answered over his shoulder.

xXx

"You must miss that weirdo pretty bad if you are desperate enough to be here on a weekend overnight." Irving's voice from the darkness of the late night Sheriff's office nearly sent her for her gun, Abbie considered using it anyway the split second before he placed the peace offering on her desk.

"Nope," she answered, inhaling the sweet scent of Hecky's Rib tips. Abbie reached for the bag on her desk like the last life boat coming off the Titanic. She reached her fingers into the crinkly, oil seeped bag and dragged forth a lone fry. "Mmmmmm," she smiled around the bite. "Not that I am decrying your offering of roasted meat, but I could ask you what sends you out here at…" she looks at the clock on her computer and is nearly shocked herself at the time. "2:34 in the morning."

"It's almost the Witching Hour." He shrugged and settled in across from her, diggining into his own portion. "Course, if Jenny was here and not in…"

"Dublin."

"Dublin, right. She would say that the last two weeks, every hour has become the witching hour."

Abbie nodded by way of answer. "She's a powerful witch that I will not argue with." Abbie said.

"Lest you be turned to something that croaks and lives on a lily pad." Irving smirked. He had been on the frontlines again this time as well. "We're lucky to have her."

"That remains to be seen, Captain. "

Irving gave her a look similar to that he had given his daughter many times, most recently when she decided to start dating. "You feeling some type of way about all of this, Mills?"

"Noo," Abbie hedged. "But I still can't find any answers as to A. How she got here, and two, who released her and why. "

Irving nodded and decided to attack the situation differently. "Have you discussed this with Crane?"

Abbie shook her head. "He's still on his second honeymoon. Its been so quiet around here since Katrina came and, I guess that is the part that is bugging the shit out of me—"

"That Katrina is back?" he asked leaning back into the seat.

"No, that it has been so quiet since she came back. Its eerie. I told Crane to take some time, you know? I figured I would leave them to it until something came up."

"But nothing's come up." Irving said. "Listen, before she left for.."

"Dublin, " Abbie supplied again.

"Right, Dublin. Jenny told me what happened; I mean the parts that you had left out in your unofficial official report. The imps, you two were out gunned. You should have died on that field, no back up. "

Abbie finished chewing on her last fry. "You're saying she saved our lives out there?"

"I'm saying we got a serious fight ahead of us. I think that this whole seven year thing is going to take its toll, on all of us. We are staring into the abyss here; maybe this was one for the good guys. I don't mean to sound too Pollyanic here, but maybe we are looking a gift horse in the mouth."

"Do you remember what came outta that horse later in the story?" she asked with a cock of her head.

"Fair enough." Irving said rising quickly and clearing the remnants of his meal. "Gp and talk to the Cranes. Find out what you can about the real story. I know you tried before, but maybe, they are a little tired of each other enough to come up for air. "

"Thanks for dinner, Captain." Abbie called after his disappearing form. "You never told me what you were doing here at this time of night."

Irving turned and shrugged. "Jut thought you might be hungry." He smiled and left through the glass doors.

xXx

Abbie reached the cabin the next morning to a spring day that reminded her of home plate. She parked the car and made her way to the front door. After receiving no answer from her knock, she made her way toward the sound of a woman's laughter that was like bells from an empty cathedral.

"Miss Mills," Crane waved to her from the path along the river. He turned and said something to his wife before running to meet her.

"Hey, nice day for a walk huh?" Abbie began with a smile she couldn't stop. "I see the clothes fit."

Katrina wore a simple summer gown with a wrap around her shoulders. The color was a good pick, and Abbie congratulated her own fashion sense.

"Come and meet her properly." Crane insisted, taking Abbie's hand in his. "I have told her so much about you, I feel she will love you instantly. "

"All right," Abbie acquiesced. "But we need to talk, Crane. You knew this was coming."

"I promise you, Abbie," he grinned big. "But, first, you should at least meet her. How can she properly trust you if you don't even get to know her first?"

Abbie wasn't so sure, but she followed his lead and came to stand as a trio under the beautiful late March sun. Introductions were made, Abbie smiled and laughed as Katrina told a story about Crane and a wayward pen of piglets.

The three stood at the river that ran directly in front of the old cabin. Crane held his wife's hand while Abbie held herself at a distance.

"It's beautiful." The red head announced, her crystalline voice sliced through the silence the three had been enjoying since emptying out of the sheriff's department issued carriage.

"It reminds me a bit of home, you recall Katrina? The little pond that followed a path to-"

Abbie stopped listening there, it wasn't any of her business what those two had shared, or would share, or were sharing now.

And yet, the pain of being excluded seeped into her bones a little with each word from her partner's mouth.

Katrina kneeled on the path and placed her naked feet into the river. Crane soon followed beside her as Abbie stood next to the two of them. "Come, Miss Mills." Katrina insisted. "Its most refreshing."

Abbie nodded but took a step back. She looked over the other side of the water and nearly screamed. "Crane, " she spoke calmly. "You two had better come on up."

Crane and Katrina turned to look at her. "Miss Mills, the water is perfectly fine." He insisted.

Abbie pointed and removed her gun with her other hand. "Now, Crane." She insisted.

He took his wife's hand and helped her out of the water. It wasn't until the three were standing that he realized what had his partner so concerned.

Off in the distance, seeping in small but increasing increments, on the banks of the river opposite where they stood, the water had become blood red.


	3. Chapter 3

Of folded schedules had she many a one,  
>Which she perused, sighed, tore, and gave the flood;<br>Cracked many a ring of posied gold and bone,  
>Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud;<br>Found yet moe letters sadly penned in blood,  
>With sleided silk feat and affectedly<br>Enswathed and sealed to curious secrecy.

W. Shakespeare

"Remember that conversation I've been mentioning?" Abbie asked, arms folded.

Crane continued his steady pace around the cabin's great room. "This makes no sense." he insisted. "Why would the water turn to blood?"

Abbie sighed, realizing he had chosen to ignore her She sighed and ran her hand over her hips. Rhythmic chugging in a stop and go pattern assaulted her ears. Across the room, katrina, as if mesmerized turned the tap on and off. "still red." he said out loud to no one.

Abbie nodded and gathered her strength. Taking a step toward the woman at the faucet, she spoke. "Mrs...Katrina, hey I know it's been a bit crazy for you, but I need to-"

"Miss Mills," Crane interrupted, he had come to her elbow and Abbie ully expected him to grab her arm and lead her out the door. perhaps our efforts would be better suited to researching the incident."

She turned on him then. "The water in this town has turned to blood, Crane. Somehow i think the research should begin with the strange reappearance of your wife."

The sudden silence in the room was broken by the jangle of Abbie's iphone.

"Wanna tell me why we are experience the first plague of Egypt," Irving shot from a distance, Abbie assumed he had put her on speaker while trying to handle ten things at once, those ten things more than likely had to do with the sudden sanguination of the public drinking water.

Abbie shrugged as if he could see her surrender. "Not precisely at this moment, Captain." She looked around the room; Crane had come to stand beside her, ear bent into the phone as if he were entitled to it. Perhaps he was and Abbie was just not feeling he was an active member of team Witness.

Not as long as questions surrounding his wife were still off limits in any of their conversations. "We just discovered it ourselves here, sir."

Irving's voice was strained and in danger of leaping through the phone in effigy. Abby could not imagine how much restraint he was using to not scream. "Think maybe you two could break up the afternoon tea long enough to give me a hand around here?"

Abbie loved the man, she did. there was a lot about Captain Irving that was ore than admirable. Plus, he had great taste in ribs. the problem was, he was a tad bit of a drama queen. "Captain, as soon as i get a handle on things here, we will make it out that way."

"By a handle on things," the man on the other end of the phone spoke, "I am assuming you are referring to interrogating the witness."

"Small and capital 'W' yes sir." She threw a look at Katrina, who had ceased her own interrogation of the bloody faucet and was now engaged in a staring contest with the tea kettle. "Just get here as soon as possible." Irving reiterated before ending the call.

"We should go and investigate this." Crane insisted mid pace. "Water turning to blood is at the root o many Biblical-"

"Back up," Abbie said. She had unconsciously assumed the Lieutenant in charge tone to her voice. "Before we start to look into what is happening now, we need to back track and assume that eents have been set into place a while ago."

Crane stared at his partner as if she had now grown a second head. "Miss Mills, i don't see how this is not been in place for a time. What have we been fighting for nearly a year. You yourself have-"

She cut him off a second time and raised her hand. She angled her head toward the woman in the kitchen. "It's time, Crane."

"I don't understand." he flustered.

Abbie walked over to where Katrina stood. The red haired woman turned to meet Abbie's gaze, her green eyes ablaze. "I know what you want to ask me." Katrina began.

Crane moved across the room in three quick strides to stand beside his wife. "Miss Mills, wife has had nothing to do with this. You were there, how can you even ask?"

Abbie squared her shoulders but pushed forward. "I saw the water begin to turn red when her feet touched the water." Abbie paused but went on. "I know that, no offense Mrs. Crane-"

"Katrina, please." she corrected, the older woman's voice seemed to gain strength.

"-but we don't know where you came from. That night in the forest. We were being carted off into Go knows what. Now, I can't speak for your husband, but i certainly can attest to not knowing what the hell happened out there that night. Care to cast any light on the situation?"

"I don't believe this is the right time nor place for an inquisition." Crane said as he placed his arm around Katrina. "Perhaps we really should focus on the matter at hand."

Katrina moved nearly imperceptibly, away from her husband's grasp. She seemed to rise in height by six feet and addressed Abbie. "Miss Mills. I understand your line of questions, it is most relevant to ask these things given light in present circumstances." Katrina placed her hand on her husband's cheek. "He does attempt to protect me." she smiled.

"Mrs-Katrina, if we could get to the heart of this. what do you remember about that night?"

Katrina nodded and moved away from Ichabod. "I don't remember." she offered solemnly. "I was just as surprised to find myself here."

Maybe it was her downcast stare, or her reticent body language, but Abbie had a hard time beleiving her. "Are you sure, Katrina? You don't recall anything?"

Katrina shook her head. "No, I tell you honestly. I don't recall anything from my last moment in Purgatory until waking with my husband at my side."

Abbie sat at the rough hewn table and motioned for Katrina to do the same. "Katrina, can you tell me what you were doing before you left Purgatory. What was the last thing you recall?"

Crane spoke up. "She's answered already, Katrina says she does not recall what happened. I don;t see how further interrogation could be helpful."

Abbie favored her irritated partner with, what she hoped, was a look of fiercely intentioned patience. "Crane, step away." she offered quietly. "Unless you have something to add that is helpful in this, you need to stand down. " Her voice had not risen in cadence nor ardor. Abbie knew he would fight her in this,; knew firsthand how protective he could be of Katrina. What she was not ready for was the act of God pushing things to a faster tempo.

"I see no need to continue this conversation." Crane went on. "She has said we are equally measured in our memories from a fortnight. We have established that there is nothing new here to learn. At least not at this time. Perhaps we should tend to the matter at hand and go see about the water? I would assume that was a more pressing matter."

She hated his logic, but mostly because he was right. Abbie placed both hands on the table and stood. "All right, we are in a situation here. Obviously you are not in a place where you can speak about this."

"There is nothing to speak about, Miss Mills." Katrina said.

Abbie nodded, she had not realized this would be that hard. "I need to head to the station."

Crane moved to get his coat and follow her. Abbie wanted to tell him to stay where he was, but she had learned early that arguably, he would eventually be needed. Letting him tag along had become less tagging, and lore saving herself an extra trip to go and get him anyway.

XxX

The streets were paced. Abbie almost regretted taking the extra ten minutes to argue with the Cranes. The parking lot of the Buy More spilled over with SUV's and panicked people. "Irving said it was the running water that was affected. The stuff in bottles, still potable."

"Seems ironic." Crane said. "Water from taps and lakes completely fouled, whereas the water we are forced to pay for, unharmed."

Abbie grinned despite the situation. "Told you that stuff will kill you."

"Indeed." he said.

"So what do we know about water turning to blood." Abbie asked.

"Well, it's obviously one of the signs of the Apocalypse." Crane said. "_The third angel poured his bowl into the rivers and the springs of__water__, and they__turned __into__blood__."_

"Revelations 16:4." Abbie said. "But unless i got my bible trivia wrong, there is a a whole slew of things that happen before we even get to Crimson Tide. "

"Perhaps. Or, perhaps there were signs that we have missed." Crane offered as he thumbed through Washington's Bible.

"You mean seas boiling and dying? Dead rising from the grave? I think we would have..." Abbie stopped and looked at Crane. "On second thought."

"She wasn't dead Lieutenant." Crane insisted. "Why must you insist on continually returning to this line of thought? That my wife had anything, _has_ anything, to do with this is preposterous."

"And yet here we are." Abbie said. "And I don't know what Sunday School you attended, but where i am from, Purgatory is dead."

"As you so eloquently put it before, the rules on tht have gotten a little 'bendy.'

Abbie flinched at the memory of her friend's twisted corpse. "Be that as it may, i ain't calling Andy and havin' him over for dinner, either." she threw. "There's dead, and then there is dead

They arrived at the station to find complete chaos; phones rang incessantly, shouts and clipped conversations from the other officers were drowned in a sea of angry words being lobbed from civilians who felt the police should fix the problem immediately.

Irving caught them on their way to the archives. "I certainly hope you know what the hell this is all about. I got the National Guard patrolling the Buy More and the Wal-Mart has become a DMZ"

"We're just going to find out something now, "Abbie answered.

"It's definitely Biblical." Crane offered.

"No shit, Sherlock." Irving cut. "Just get to the Bat Cave and get me some answers before i completely lose any pretense of control of this situation." He nodded and turned to Abbie. "Mills, a private word, in my office?"

Crane opened his mouth to say something but clamped it shut again quickly. He knew what that private word would be about but was hesitant to create more havoc in an already tight situation. Instead he turned toward the glass doors and left the two of them to their idle gossip.

XxX

"So, you don't believe her, then." Irving asked room the corner of his office nearest to the phones.

"It's not that i don't believe her, it's that i know she is lying. Whether she has anything to do with this or not, she is definitely keeping something. " Abbie said.

He nodded and went on. "Do you trust him to be impartial in this?"

Abbie shrugged, nodded, then shrugged again. "If it was about anything else, Captain, i would answer with a resounding yes. But.."

"Put Jenny on the other side of the research when she gets in later tonight. " He raised his hands aas Abbie geared up to fight. "I know, I know, but i think having someone else in this on the other side, completely impartial-"

"-I'm impartial." she insisted.

"Someone not so close. Look, we know Jenny has connections that we aren't even to the surface of. Pass any information through her. She'll understand."

Abbie wasn't so much worried about her sister understanding so much as her sister's ability to be discreet. She'd already seen Crane's reaction to the recent events, she knew Irving was right, but she wished Cane had been able to be more removed she had to admit she missed his insights into things. "Yeah," she nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

**His qualities were beauteous as his form,**

**For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free;**

**Yet, if men moved him, was he such a storm**

**As oft 'twixt May and April is to see,**

**When winds breathe sweet, untidy though they be.**

**His rudeness so with his authorized youth**

**Did livery falseness in a pride of truth.**

**W. Shakepeare**

By the time they made it to the station, there were a line of cars headed the opposite direction. Apparently water into blood was one too many following the plague the year before.

"And the Exodus begins." Crane offered from his side of the front seat. Abbie chose to remain silent, which was the default setting in case of Crane meltdown.

"As if migration will assure them safety." He sneered.

"People like to feel like they are doing something." Abbie said, ignoring her own advice. She hated goading him, or at least feeling as if she were, but sometimes the shit that came out of his mouth was too good to pass up. "I mean, if you had no idea what was going on, wouldn't you take Katrina out of town?"

He studied her then; Abbie wondered what had made him leave Katrina back at the cabin. "What would make the river run red?" Abbie posed to herself, but knew Crane would jump in with his opinion whether wanted or not.

"Biblical plague." Crane fed.

Abbie nodded, she had been considering that herself. "One red river does not an apocalypse make." She managed a glance at her partner while twisting through increasing traffic.

"Firstly, you have managed to misquote Shakespeare, which I can only infer is an intentional play on the present situation " Crane said with the usual fickle finger of fate pointed in her direction.

Abbie sighed; she could smell a Cranetankerous rant a mile away. She wondered if it was some heightened sense of her typical bullshit meter with all new upgrades; perhaps the next step would be seizures before an earthquake.

"And secondly," what else would make a natural body of water turn red?"

"Algae." Abbie added and threw the car into park. "Red Algae is infamous for sporing and turning water colors. There's a pool in Brazil that actually has two separate flows of different colors."

Crane turned to face her as they made their way to the door of the station. "Correct me if I am wrong," he began as if there was a possibility he believed he could be wrong. "But might it be assumed if this algae was the cause of the discoloration, would it not have happened before?"

Abbie shrugged as she opened the glass door and slid into the mayhem. Irving spotted their entrance and moved toward them with the speed of an irate honey badger. "Bout time you two showed up. I keep you around to keep a handle on the madness in this town." He looked between the two of them. "Please tell me I don't owe the great taxpayers of this town a refund for your salaries."

"We're on it." Abbie quipped. "Just need to get to the archives for research."

"People are scared, Mills." Irving added, and Abbie understood the unspoken; that he too was scared.

"Captain," Crane spoke. "I assure you that the Lieutenant and I will do everything in our power to rescind whatever horrendous actions are at play here."

Irving glared at the two Witnesses he usually felt blessed to know. "No fancy speeches, Crane. Just get it fixed."

"We're on it." Abbie clarified, grabbing her partner by the elbow before he made another soliloquy.

But, two hours later the two had nothing. The archives resembled a train wreck and the two sat opposite each other in silent stalemate.

"It's not." Crane insisted.

"Of course it is, what the hell else could it be?" Abbie asked with a dramatic slam of the tome in front of her. She flung herself back into the chair and knew she was settling in to another Crane standoff.

"Lieutenant, you said so yourself; one sign does not a plague make."

Abbie shook her head. "All right, Crane, let's play your game." Crane raised one eyebrow at her, clearly the first sign of a long winded rant gearing up. "What else you got?"

Crane gave the second sign of a rant; he cleared his throat and affected the Smug Grin. Ten minutes into his listing of what it could be, his phone rang.

Abbie listened without interest, she knew the only other person that would call him. He said a few words then grabbed his coat. "We need to go."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The scene would have been funny had it not been so surreal and horrifying and even with that Abbie found herself biting her lip and reminding herself that this was yet another bad sign.

Crane erupted from the Jeep as if someone had lit his ass on fire; Abbie launched herself out of the driver's side and moved to the scene in front of the cabin.

"Katrina!" Crane yelled as he waded through the undulating green that covered the wooden porch and spilled over the surrounded lands. The entire yard, and the road was covered in frogs, or toads, or frogs and toads. Abbie wasn't sure. She was sure, however, that this was a second sign.

She had called Irving on the way and had asked if there was anything odd going on. "You mean aside from the river turning to blood?" he asked in an even tone.

"Yeah," Abbie had punctuated. "Aside from that."

Irving confirmed that, no there were no other reports of any sort of oddness. In fact, he noted that the phenomenon had in fact, dissipated. It was that bit of information that pressed the gas pedal harder as they made their way to the cabin.

Crane had already made his way up the steps and through the front door. Abbie was a bit slower, choosing to not leave puddles of green pulp in her wake as she moved.

Maybe I am not in such a hurry to save the princes today. Abbie wondered to herself.

But the scene that greeted her as she entered the cabin nearly made her double over in laughter. Only nearly. She knew better than to make light of a situation that Crane would obviously be panicked in. Someone had to keep their head.

Katrina stood on top of the wooden slat table, her demeanor the classic pose of a fifties housewife finding a rat scurrying across the floor.

Well, there were frogs (toads?) covering every inch of the cabin floor.

Abbie holstered her weapon and turned from the scene of Crane trying to coax his wife off of the table. She tried to assess the situation as an outsider.

"What do you mean, they just showed up?" Crane asked the frightened woman standing on the table.

"They rained from the ceiling." She asserted still bearing the grimace of fear and revulsion. Her hands animatedly mimed as she spoke. "I had no idea…."

"Rained?" Abbie asked with a pointed look at her partner. "You mean they came out of no where?"

"That is what I said Miss Mills." Katrina answered. She had finally taken Crane's hand and was allowing him to carry her off of the table.

Crane seemed lost as if he had not considered what to do once getting his wife off her perch. Abbie had visions of ivory towers but chose to keep her thoughts to herself. Instead she cleared the jumping frogs (toads?) through a path and lead them back out to the car.

"We need to get to the archives." Crane said.

"Crane, this is a second sign. It's the second plague." Abbie accused as she started the car. "You ready to talk Plague with a capital 'p'?" Abbie was fully aware and conscious of her goading, it was fed by irritation and the residual feeling of having stepped on living amphibians.

Crane wisely chose to not feed the animal gestating in his partner's voice. He held onto Katrina and sighed. "We will cross that bridge when we come to it, Lieutenant." he insisted from the passenger seat. He turned to check on his wife again, she seemed a small child curled into the far corner of her seat. He himself could no longer deny the issues surrounding her miraculous appearance. He had to know; the fate of the world was at stake. One man's happiness could not outweigh human existence.

"Then we'll burn it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

"We need to question her." Abbie insisted. They had made it back to the archives in record time. The two sat at their desks as Katrina characteristically chose to nap on the couch in the far corner. Crane had lovingly placed one of the old blankets over his wife. He was aware of the validity of Miss Mill's assertion; what he was unsure of was hearing the answers. "I will do it." He answered.

Abbie nodded, "You've been saying that since day one. Four weeks later and the Biblical plagues are manifesting."

"We don't know that for sure." Crane insisted defensively. In truth he had every inkling of something nefarious with her return. She wasn't the same. The four weeks of Katrina's return had shown a steady decline in his belief that everything would be fine.

Abbie blew a harsh sigh between her lips and shook her head. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains," Abbie insisted. "Must be the truth. If we were on the other side of this, Crane you would see this entirely differently. You are too close to this."

"There is a fair amount of impossible in our day to day, Lieutenant." Crane fired back, irked by her accusations. "And might I veer you away from fiction into fact; in completing a hypothesis, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected. We don't know what brought Katrina back from Purgatory, and we cannot assume that this is directly associated with my wife. "

"She put her foot into the water and it turned to blood." Abbie hissed.

"She had put her feet into that river at least a dozen times before that." Crane insisted. "And we deal with the impossible every hour of every day. Is it not possible that this is mere coincidence?"

"How many times have you reminded me that coincidence goes out the window when the two of us are involved?" Abbie retorted. "And the cabin, _just_ the cabin, is riddled with toads."

"They were frogs, Lieutenant." He challenged.

"A toad by any other name—"

"Still makes a ghastly wet crunching noise when stepped upon." He finished, eliciting the hard won smile he had been trying for. He loved that, loved her smile. He had not seen one since…But that was something he pushed out of his mind. "And you are yet again misquoting Shakespeare." He missed this, their easy arguing and manner, even when they did not agree, neither one of them took it personally. Both of them understood they had to work as one, to be as one. He had to admit to himself that she, this tiny woman, had the power to render him an idiot with just a few words.

But, more than anything that he missed of her he had to admit to himself that he missed his friend. He missed _them_.

Abbie nodded. "All right, Crane." She got up and grabbed her coat. "I'm gonna go check in with Irving. I will give you the room. " She offered him her patented 'get it done' glare before turning toward the door. "Call me when you two are finished."

He nodded and experienced the same apprehension he always felt when she left. Sighing, he wiped his face with his hands and stood. It was a mission, and he had to treat it as such. There was no getting out of it; Miss Mills had given him a directive and a good soldier always completed his mission.

She was still asleep when he moved to sit next to her reposed frame. She was truly beautiful but even he could no longer deny the need for answers. Her recent frailty had puzzled him; Katrina had always been one of strong opinions and stronger will. She barely spoke of anything other than frivolities and objects of impermanence since her return. '

He realized, too, that he himself had undergone a change in many ways; perspective, knowledge and something else. Something he, who had always considered himself of considerable intellect, could not find a name for.

Crane had long realized that waking her gently was the best course, he took her small hand in his and kissed it gently with a slight but insistent utterance of her name.

"My Love," Katrina breathed as she opened her eyes. "What is it?"

He sighed then, knowing this was going to be a difficult mission to complete. "Katrina, we need to talk."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

"So, you left them to it, then?" Jenny's voice taunted from a distance." Abbie had hoped that Jenny would return her call from earlier, what she didn't expect was the speed nor the sudden return to town.

"Yeah," Abbie answered rubbing away the headache that had begun in the back of her eyes. "Apparently they need to talk."

"I should say so," Jenny said. "Biblical plagues aside, it's been four weeks and we still have no idea how she got here."

Abbie smiled, it was so good to talk to her, to be able to have this free and easy conversation with a sister she had missed out on for too long. They were indelible in each other's lives now, and she needed it more than she would openly admit. "True."

Jenny paused before she spoke. "So, how are you doing Abs?" Jenny asked hesitantly.

"I told you, I'm fine." Abbie answered.

"You know when you do that little sing song thing with your speech patter? Yeah its kinda your tell. It means you're not fine but I should stop asking."

Abbie smiled. "You know this, and yet you still push."

"Yup." Abbie could hear the smile in her younger sister's voice. "Its what I do. Listen, Abbie Its ok to be jealous."

"Excuse me?"

Jenny sighed on the other side of technology. "I mean, you two are close, before Katrina showed up you two were closer than most if not all married couples I have known."

"I don't know where you are going with this," Abbie said, feeling a pul in her chest she was not ready to deal with. "But I wish you would stop pushing."

"Whatever, Abbie. If you need to talk, call me, and let me know what's going on? I would like to have a little warning before all hell breaks loose."

"Quite literally, But like I said, it seems to be a localized phenomenon."

"Yeah, that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better about this. You be careful, Sissy." Abbie smiled at the affectation of a nick name she hadn't heard since….before. _She must really be scared. _Abbie pondered. "Some of those plagues are really nasty. And watch that last step; it's a real loo-loo."

Abbie clicked end and sat at her desk; Jenny's food for thought left her ravenous


	5. Chapter 5

**I just wanted to take an opportunity to thank all of you wonderful readers who have read, favorited and left me some really great reviews. I have really been amazed that many from another fandom have followed me here into my new obsession. WOW **

**I AM Truly Humbled**

**Ya'll know how awesome you all are. right? If not let me say it again.**

**You ROck!**

But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent

The destined ill she must herself assay?

Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,

To put the by-past perils in her way?

Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;

For when we rage, advice is often seen

By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

-W. Shakespeare

His first instinct was to protect her. Not in the same way he wanted to protect Abbie. With Abbie he had a need to protect her as he knew she would protect him—to man up as she had said before. With Katrina, her frailties were more noticeable since her mysterious return. True, she had always been strong and more than capable, but Katrina was no match for the modern era. As forward thinking nad behaving as she had been in the past; Crane had to admit to himself that the world was full of people that were far more forward thinking now. His poor wife couldn't keep up.

She nodded at his insistence for conversation. He had expected more of a fight, but Katrina raised herself to a sitting position on the couch and affected a haughty repose. "What do you want to know my darling, Ichabod?"

"Katrina, I had asked you before, but now I must insist. I need to know how you got here."

Katrina cocked her head to one side as if confused. "DO you not recall, my love?" she smiled. "I did tell you."

Crane shook his head. "No, Katrina. You did no such thing. The last time I asked you, you changed the subject. I have given you much leeway in order to acclimate yourself to your new surroundings. But, in light of the new situations that have occurred in the past two days—"

"What situations are those?" she asked.

He stood then. Something was wrong and he could tell. She wasn't…right. "Katrina," he began again, "Tell me again how you got here."

HE watched as her face seemed to crumple in on itself. He knew then, she did not want to tell him. Whatever it was far worse than any of the lies she had told before. "Ichabod, Darling. Cannot we just enjoy the here and now?" she offered him a smile that, in another life would have rendered him complacent, but, far too much had happened for him to be placated with whimsy.

Ichabod shook his head. "Katrina," he spoke all the while fighting the urge to shake her, shale whatever flippant little thing had rattled loose in that head of hers. "Now is not the time for docile silliness. Katrina," he spoke her name sharply in the hopes of scaring her. "What is it? What have you done this time?"

Katrina gave her husband a half smile and pulled her long legs to herself. "I gave you what you wanted dear Ichabod. What we both have wanted all along."

The sound of rustling forced his hand from choking her. It was a reflex he had always found more than distasteful in others, but in himself—inexcusable. She talked in circles, and her words had brought with them a migraine of Biblical proportions. "What do you mean?" he asked, ignoring the buzzing that was slowly rising behind him.

She looked at him in shades of memory. He recalled the first time he saw her, the first time they kissed. He remembered their first night together as man and wife. But, it was the recognition of playing on his memories that stilled him. She wanted to cull him into forgetting; into love that he knew was slowly fading. "Ichabod, everything I have done, I have done for you " she tilted her head prettily; an action that would have once lead Crane into their bedroom now left him with a sickening feeling of dread.

"Katrina! Please, if you have ever loved me, you will be straightforward now. For God's sake, there are lives being affected. Have you no care about them?"

The buzzing began in earnest, and while he wanted to turn to find the source of the clamor, he feared removing his eyes from the visage of his wife would give her enough time to disappear. "Katrina, answer me!"

"It was the only way, I had to do it." She offered. "I should never have come. You no longer feel anything for me, do you?"

"This is the perfect time to speak of the nature of our marriage. Now?" he bit through clenched teeth.

"Ichabod, you needed me, and I missed you. He offered me a way to come back. I had to take it. DO you not understand that?" Katrina moved her hands in front of her face, "When I could take no more torment, he came to me and offered me salvation. I am needed here, now in this fight."

"Katrina, whatever means necessary I am glad you have come." He iced gently. "But, if you came here under evil means, no matter how well intentioned.." Crane took a deep breath in an attempt to settle the bile rising in his throat.

"I asked and he granted. He cared for me more than you."

"Who?" Crane asked growing weary of questions. "I have little time for games now Katrina. Whatever this is, whatever you have done, you need to tell me now. We cannot fix this without knowing what needs repair."

Katrina did not answer, her face became slack and her mouth shifted into a steady gaping 'O'. He followed her gaze, not wanting to see but needing to know what scared the powerful witch.

The buzzing nearly drowned out her words. The entirety of the archives was bathed in the sound. Finally, realizing Katrina would only talk in codes; he turned and promptly regretted his actions.

The round windows were black, moving masses of flies. Their fat bodies climbed over each other

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The glass doors burst open and a horde of people began to fil the station. The flies entered with them, and Abbie waved around an old magazine in a futile attempt to keep them away from her.

"This again?" Irving asked as he appeared in front of her desk, he wielded a manila folder like the brave little tailor hitting several at once. "I thought the two of you were getting a handle on this. "

Abbie shrugged and pursed her lips. She continued to wave away the large black flies "The other two phenomena dissipated quickly. They seem to be a localized phenomenon."

"Localized how? To what?" Captain Irving motioned to the nearby window where large swarms of flies were gathered around the intersection. "You can barely make out your hand in front of your face. " He turned back to Abbie. "And now you are telling me this is a local thing? How do we send whatever it is back to where it came from…oh."

Abbie wanted to laugh at Irving's comic mouth clamp. She shook her head and sighed. "It's complicated, Captain."

"It's a danger to my town. That affects everyone in her general vicinity." He stopped and looked at the young woman then. "She's here, isn't she?"

"Frogs all over the cabin, had to bring her somewhere."

"Uh huh."

Abbie nodded "Down in the Archives with Crane. They're having a heart to heart." Abbie smirked.

"We don't know for sure if she is the direct cause of the—"

"This woman was purportedly in Purgatory for some 200 odd years, magically appears out of the blue in the middle of a demon infested battle that you and your partner have no idea how you made it out alive; and let's not forget that she is some powerful witch. But. Wait, those ten plagues have nothing to do with her. She's not a harbinger of the Apocalypse, nahhhhh." He shook his head for effect. "She's just Crane's wife. No biggie. Nothing outta the ordinary."

"Captain…." Abbie spoke but could not meet her friend's eye. She was making excuses for the woman, and her reasons were far removed from any initial jealousy that Jenny had (rightly) accused her of. She didn't want to see Crane devastated from this. This was gonna leave a mark.

"Lieutenant, localized or not, this woman appears to be a nexus of Biblical displeasure. Now, I realize Crane is your friend and partner, but I was under the impression that the whole End of Days thing trumped all of that."

Abbie nodded again. "I'm gonna go see if I can't find out what's what." She reached for her coat and purse and headed toward the back walkway. Figures it is my turn to go skulking through the tunnels.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxx

He met her in the tunnels. Crane was holding his wife's hand and leading her to the station when she collapsed. In truth he had been worried about Miss Mills; he had wanted to make sure she was all right. When she didn't answer her phone, Crane realized he could not leave his wife alone in the archives, but he could not

Katrina felt like a dead weight as he lead her through the darkened walkways. Then, he felt her grip slip from him. When he looked down she was crumpled into a heap.

"Katrina, we have to keep moving."

"It itches." She wailed piteously.

He knelt by her side and squinted for a better look in the dar. Katrina's long fingers dug into the flesh of her arms and legs. Some spots had already begun to welt and bleed. "Katrina, what in the world."

"Crane!" Abbie shouted as she moved closer. "Why are you in the tunnels?"

"You didn't answer your phone." He accused. "Katrina seems to be in distress."

"When is she not?" Abbie mumbled under her breath and Crane pretended not to hear. They advanced on the still scratching woman in the corner of the tunnel. "We need to get her back to the archives."

"Why, so more plagues can manifest? No offense, Crane but I have no secret desire to sit in darkness or eat diseased livestock."

"Lieutenant, are you refusing to help someone in need?"

Damn you Crane and your evil Jedi mind tricks. Abbie took one side of the woman as Crane took the other. Each held onto an arm attempting to prevent Katrina from doing any more damage. Katrina fidgeted under their grasp "It itches; God's wounds I cannot bear it much longer!"

By the time they reached the archives, the flies were completely gone from the windows. Katrina's plaintive cries had reduced to silent wet moans. "She's nearly flayed herself raw." Crane muttered as he led her back to the same couch he had just moved her from. Crane placed his great coat over her torso and kneeled beside her. "Rest, Katrina." He intoned. His hand stilled just centimeters from touching her; not sure what part of her would be safe from undue torment.

Abbie waited for him to move back to the other side of the room before pouncing. She stood like judge jury and executioner; arms folded and legs poised for a fight. "Crane, what did you get out of her?"

"You mean before all of this." He waved to the now cleared windows.

Abbie nodded but did not move. "Quit stalling; tell me what the hell is going on here."

Crane's frame crumbled into one of the massive red chairs. He rested his head on his hands; arms teetered on his knees. "She told me nothing, Lieutenant."

"Nothing?" Abbie accused.

Crane shook his head again, and Abbie began to wonder if he wasn't on the verge of insanity. "I asked, and all I seemed to be able to elicit from her responses is that someone sent her back here. She says I should remember. That, we should remember."

"Remember? You and me or you and her?" Abbie asked. "Because all I recall of that particular night that your wife came waltzing back into the land of the living could fit onto the head of a pin."

"Indeed," he answered, and for the first time, Abbie heard the bone weary exhaustion in his voice. In the time since his wife's return, she had maybe heard the intonation of weariness in his voice, but Abbie now realized she had ignored it; had chalked it up to too much celebrating. Now, she knew better. Now, Abbie knew she had merely been a bad friend and a worse partner.

She stretched her hand to him, placing it on his shoulder. He immediately brought his hand to hers and leaned into her touch. "I had no idea…" she stammered.

"As well you shouldn't" he nodded softly and Abbie reveled in the feel of his stubbled cheek against her bear arm. "It was neither your concern nor yours to worry."

"I should have known better. That you were exhausted from…" she shrugged not sure how much she should assume.

Crane nodded again. "If I had need for you, I would have sent for you in some small way. Or, a bonfire perhaps." They shared a small laugh then, and Abbie for the first time since Katrina returned, it felt like old times. Like every times.

She leaned into his head with her own; the shared moment too fragile and fleeting. "We need to figure out a few things. " Abbie added after a time. She could have stayed there with him forever, but there wasn't time. "Crane, it's the plagues of Egypt."

"Yes, I fear you were right. As per usual." He smiled. "But these are not on the scale of anything that would provoke an exodus."

"Or even a minor revolution." She knew she had to tell him then, for good or bad; better or worse he had to know. "Crane, you need to know this is an extremely localized event."

He lifted his head again then; his blue eyes pierced her brown ones with a thousand questions ready to tumble all at once. "Localized?" he was as quick as the captain. "Of course, how could I be so stupid?"

Abbie shrugged. "Hey, I know it's been kinda a weird month." She smiled for levity but her partner did not return the gesture.

"Miss Mills, my wife. Her return, is it possible?" He rose quickly and moved with his usual grace to the books in the far corner. Long fingers encased a tome that looked as if a good wind would blow it away. His face affected that serene determination that reminded Abbie of when Corbin would get an idea in his head. The question of what was wrong with his face hovered right on the very tip of her tongue.

"Damn it!" he shouted suddenly. Abbie turned to see if his declaration had disturbed the injured witch on the other side of the large area. No, she remained a nearly lifeless lump on the couch. Her quivering reminded Abbie of lime jello.

"What, what is it?" she asked coming to his side. He tilted his head forward to gain better access to her space. His long index finger pointed to a passage in the ancient tome, his voice was cracked and paper dry as he spoke.

"See here," he began running his finger beneath a language she did not speak. "This is a passage of prophecy from Egypt."

"The home of the original plagues." Abbie filled in.

"Quite," Crane nodded. "It states that if a soul is released from Purgatory without forgiveness it will unmake reality."

"But, we knew that already." Abbie insisted, folding her arms and tucking her hands under. Something in the air, in the words had fostered a chill that wanted to shake her bones to dust.

With a small nod he went on. "Here, it refers to the actual unmaking of reality. A seal. The fourth seal." He glanced toward the reposed form on the couch then spoke quieter. "The release of a sinful soul from Purgatory is the breaking of the fourth seal."

Abbie shook her head and gathered her arms about her body. "So it's too late, Katrina's release from Purgatory is the fourth seal." She nodded to herself before going on. "Even if those plagues are all centered around her, whoever is in her vicinity is going to experience the worst of them. "

"You want the good news, or the bad news?" He offered with an enigmatic smile.

Abbie returned his gesture with a small pout and a glare that often spoke of her impatience, gilded only by his presence. Long suffering, she answered. "Is this a riddle?"

He offered a real smile then, "Miss Mills, if you please? Perhaps you should call Irving and offer a warning regarding the purchase of any means in the area for say, the next two days."

"Fifth plague; got it." She made the call as quick and concise as possible. Irving assured her he would offer a recall to be posted as soon as possible. "We'll just call it a terrorist threat; make it easier for folks to believe."

She thanked the captain and turned back toward Crane after ending the call. "Ok, what's the bad news?"

Crane took a deep sigh and placed the book on the table. " that _was_ the good news. The bad news looks further ahead." He shook himself and went on. "The rate of the onslaught of these plagues places the last one as happening within 48 hours. Once that one has occurred, the fourth seal is broken and there is no going back."

Abbie nodded again. "Ok, so we keep Katrina out in the boonies where no one loses a kid."

With a deeper sigh, Crane clasped his hands and spoke slowly and carefully. "Miss Mills, did I ever explain to you how I received such an inglorious name?"

Abbie was more than just afraid at that point. She had an inkling but motioned for him to go on.

"I was born a murderer. My mother died in childbirth. Not an uncommon thing for that time. " Crane stopped and raised his chin a bit. His eyes cast far away. "I was a large baby, she was young and I was a first child."

"I'm sorry." Abbie said, knowing what maternal loss feels like. Knowing the gut wrenching horror of losing the one person you should be closest to of all humans on the face of the earth.

Crane shook his head and went on. "I was first born, Abbie. This could be the ned of me as well."

The pair turned toward the shuffling noise that had somehow escaped their notice until right upon them. Katrina held herself up with the large bookcase. Her skin displayed the receding lice torment. "It's me, Ichabod." She spoke evenly. "This is all my fault, but I swear to you I can fix this. I can end it. If you allow me." Katrina moved closer to the pair, Crane caught her as she stumbled toward him. "I had a plan from the minute Henry offered to remove me from Purgatory. If you are agreeable, I can fix this. I can fix all of us and end this war."


	6. Chapter 6

How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell!

The broken bosoms that to me belong

Have emptied all their fountains in my well,

And mine I pour your ocean all among:

I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong,

Must for your victory us all congest,

As compound love to physic your cold breast.

W. Shakespeare

She slammed the door to her apartment shut like an incorrigible, eight year old who was just told Christmas was cancelled.

In a lot of ways, Abbie pretty much felt it was, forever.

She went straight for the bottle of rum she had kept tucked away under the sink. She had been hiding it from herself since Katrina had come back. The liquid slid down her throat like the fires of Mordor, so good she poured a second glass, then a third.

How could he be so stupid?

It wasn't the plan that she had envisioned, it hadn't been the way she assumed it would go when the still afflicted witch started talking. Abbie had listened with judicious believability, up until the point Katrina decided to save both the world and her marriage.

"We can beat this, Ichabod," she insisted with clutched hands. "This whole thing, we can end this. You and I the way it was meant to be. "

Bullshit, bullshit and oh yeah, more bullshit.

She had railed at him then, after the plan had been poured forth. Abbie railed and rallied. She reminded Crane of a conversation chased with poison and followed with his promise of never again.

Never again.

Apparently never again was only until his wife showed up.

Her phone rang for the eleventh time as she sat on the floor of her kitchen. The bottle of rum near half finished off. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes and threatened to spill. Abbie wiped at them; refusing to be reduced to them over more of Crane's stupid choices.

"There is always another way." She had insisted.

"This is the only way, Abbie." He had placed his hands on her shaking shoulders and gripped them as if she were the last way out of a burning house. "Do you not see that? I will die. Or, worse yet, anyone in the vicinity. You don't come back from death, no matter what the circumstance."

"But it's all been temporary." Abbie had insisted, her voice cracking with emotions so raw and pain filled she had felt she would faint. "We don't know what the parameters are. We don't know what hell she has caused."

"Miss Mills." Katrina spoke. "It has to be this. Our going back, to our own time will stop this madness,

She turned on her then, Crane grabbed for her tighter and she managed to shake him off. "What the hell do you know about any of this?"

"I have been fighting for the end of this war since long before you were a twinkle in anyone's eye." Katrina insisted with a toss of her head. "My coven has been enlisted in this war since time out of mind. I spent centuries in Purgatory."

"I know damn well where you have been." Abbie spat. I also know you shoulda stayed where you were and none of this would be happening. You've done nothing but put your husband's life in danger. Happy? Proud of yourself?"

"You should be happy that my sacrifice will put an end to this war. That you can go back to a normal life and have whatever your dreams were before all of this started."

Abbie's hands twitched to hit her, to fall to her old ways of her misspent youth and cold clock the woman in front of her. How could she explain that all of her dreams had changed? That her purpose had given her a direction in life to make a difference. That she had found someone to share that with?

"Abbie," Crane spoke gently. "Abbie, please."

Abbie had shaken her head and took a deep breath. "You come here, out of nowhere and bring Hell with you." Her voice had gained strength as she spoke. "You come here and you want to play the big hero. You caused this," she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "You caused all of this, and now you want to fix it?"

Katrina had raised her chin in defiance, an action that had only served to further irritate the tiny woman. "I came to put an end to the whole thing."

"I got a way to end this." Abbie brought her hand to her weapon. "Why don't I just shoot you now? That'll put a stop to all of this."

"It will not." Katrina asserted. "It will only stave off the inevitable. Ichabod and I returning to our time will keep him alive and keep Moloch from rising."

Abbie had laughed then, as she laughed now in the darkening kitchen. She clutched the bottle closer to her and wished she had made a beer run before she decided to get shit faced. The bottle empty, she banged her head against the cabinet and finally allowed the tears to fall.

He had stopped her, after her rant on Katrina. Crane had grabbed her gun arm and pulled her closer to him. "Abbie, " he said with a shake of his head.

She twisted around again. "How long, " she'd asked. "How long until you put this spell together?"

"We only have 18 hours before the final plague manifests." Crane answered.

She turned back to him, "18 hours?" It had hit her like falling and hitting solid concrete from an impossible height. "You mean this is going to happen, don't you?"

His face was a mask of resolute sorrow. "It has to be."

Abbie had felt her breath hitch in her throat as she spoke. "After the last time, you promised."

Crane had nodded and lowered his gaze. "I did," he said. "But you have to admit that this is a different set of circumstances. Abbie, this is not my choice this time."

"So you are just going to give up." She made a wave of obliteration with both of her hands. "That's it. Finished."

"The Apocalypse will be avoided." He insisted.

That was the final straw. She nodded then, pulled away from the happy couple, grabbed her purse and left.

Now she didn't want to feel anything, and Abbie imagined she never wanted to feel anything again. On her way home she'd called Jenny and informed her that the Crane's would need help outing together some items. "You all right?" Her sister had asked.

"Yeah, just….they're at the archives, and I need to get home."

"You leave the iron on? Why do you need to go home?"

Abbie had hung up on her sister as she pulled into her driveway.

Her phone was still ringing three hours later. It had not stopped. She gave a mental countdown. Fifteen hours until it's over, fifteen hours until the only person other than Jenny that I could rely on is gone.

It felt like Corbin's death all over again. Only worse.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxx

Someone was talking to her, shaking her. She opened her eyes and stared with bleary vision into the face hovering over her.

"You didn't answer your phone." He said.

"Fuck you." She answered and attempted to get up.

"Nice language, Miss Mills." Crane said. "You've been drinking."

She looked at him then, a good hard look as if it were the last time she would ever see him. For all she knew, it would be "Does your wife know where you are?"

"I honestly don't care either way." He admitted helping her to the couch. "And to answer your question, yes she does."

"You left her alone?" she asked.

"I left her in the capable hands of Miss Jenny. They are putting together the spell as we speak."

"My sister the babysitter." Abbie laughed mirthlessly. She stopped suddenly as he sat next to her. "How can you trust her?"

"I don't." he admitted with a nod.

Abbie felt sobriety coming on in waves. "Then how can you do this?"

"I don't have a choice, do you not see that?" he asked taking her hands in his. "I can only trust what I have seen. What we have seen."

Abbie leaned into his shoulder and felt a third wave of tears. "You promised." She said like a small child.

"I did." He said again. "I don't want to leave you, Abbie. I don't want to lose you." He leaned into her then, his lips connecting to hers. The kiss was small but tender. It held so much promise and yet so much sadness. "I have to return to 1781; one year ago I would have been elated. Now, I feel bereft of everything. It feels as if you are being ripped from me. Can you not see how I feel about you? How I have felt about you since the first day?"

She shook her head and pulled away from him. "You don't get to do this." She said wiping fresh tears from her eyes. "You don't get to admit all of this to me 12 hours before you leave."

His eyes were quizzical; disbelief edged them in icy tones of sadness. "Abbie, I love you. Despite everything in my life, the last two years I have done nothing other than fall in love with you."

"Then stay." She asked.

"You know I cannot." He attempted. His hands framed her face and he leaned closer. "You know if I could, if there was any other way, Abbie. I would never leave you."

"You can't do this." Abbie said through shattered tones. "You can't."

She noted his own wet cheeks as he spoke. "What would you have me do, Abbie? I have to leave no matter what. Katrina has seen to that." His long fingers swiped at his own tears. "I curse the day I laid eyes upon her. And yet."

Abbie nodded understanding. "And yet, if not for her we never would have met; never would have gotten to know each other."

He pulled her back to his side. "I did not come here to spend my last moments in this time cursing my wife." He said the last word as if a lemon had accidentally found its way into his mouth. Crane turned his fiery blue eyes upon her and spoke quietly. "I came here to spend them with you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Here there be angst...and smut**

'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,  
>That we must curb it upon others' proof;<br>To be forbod the sweets that seem so good,  
>For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.<br>O appetite, from judgment stand aloof!  
>The one a palate hath that needs will taste,<br>Though Reason weep, and cry, 'It is thy last.'

Abbie rose from the couch shaking her head violently. "You don't get to do this." She insisted again. "You don't get to come here and drop bombs on me in the same breath as goodbye."

He stood and came to face her, inches from her. "It is not fair, of that you are most correct, Abbie. The unfairness of it could all be written into some Greek tragedy and played out in three parts." He moved a scant centimeter closer to her. "But it does not alter or change any truth of the situation." Crane stopped then, his eyes glazing over mistily. "I love you."

Whatever words were at the tip of her tongue faded and slid back into her throat, forced a large lump around even air could not travel. "I can't do this with you." She said again.

Crane nodded his head and took her small hands into one of his. "Yes you can. I have never met anyone with more strength and sense of purpose than you." He angled his head to fix a fiery stare into her doe eyes. His blue ones burned and threatened rain. "It's not a matter of choice, Abbie. I have none on both fronts."

"You always have a choice, there is always another way—"

"And continue a fight that we could lose? Or worse yet that you could be killed in?" Crane shook his head and sighed. "No, no I cannot bear the thought of that."

"You don't need to protect me. " Abbie insisted. "I can handle whatever comes my way…our way."

"I do need to protect you, Abbie." He hissed. "Don't you see that? As little choice as I have the only consolation that I find in this despicable situation is that _I get to protect you_." Crane tugged her hands to pull her closer, but Abbie held her ground.

"What happened to doing this together?" she asked wetly.

Crane smiled then, "We are. Is that not obvious? My returning to my own time will end this madness. There will be no more evil pursuing the streets of your town. Don't you see that? I told you before I was a man living on borrowed time. This negates that, Abbie. I return to my own time and you get to have a life. Abbie you get to get married, grow old. Have friends and family."

She wanted to tell him that none of that mattered to her without him here. It was on the tip of her tongue to denounce his courtly gesture and gentile sense of honor. She shot venom instead. She stepped out of his grasp and further away from the desperate man, Abbie felt the anger tangle itself around her like a coiling serpent. "You just want to go back to your own time. This never meant anything to you." The inferred _**I**_ hung in the air between them. "You can go back to your life, to your wife. And I get to remain here and clean up your mess. As usual."

He could not have looked more hurt had she swung her Louisville slugger at his head. He physically flinched at her words and his hands began to twitch. "How can you say that?" he asked.

"How can you leave?" Abbie countered with arms folded.

"You would have this war go on? Abbie, you know full well what my wife has brought with her from Purgatory. I have no choice." He swallowed audibly and spoke. "It is not my death I fear, Abbie. You say the word and I will stay. But I will leave to only have this war continue on and no one to, as you have said, 'have your back. Abbie, I have no choice, Katrina has seen to that."

It was the cold water of truth that hit her full on. If he stayed, the final plague might get him. Leaving ended a war and righted all of the things Katrina set into motion. "I know that!" she screamed. "Don't you think I know what she has done?" Abbie fell onto the couch again, the exhaustion becoming a physical clench in her belly.

Crane slid beside her and took her hands again. "Abbie, I don't want to leave you. If it were up to me…." He shook his head. "I once told you that despite everything, we managed to find each other."

The bottle on the table flew across the room and marked the wall with a satisfying crunch. To his credit, Abbie was pleased top see that he did not flinch at the crash. "Why does this have to happen?" she screamed into his face. "Why does this have to happen? Why do we have to be the ones to sacrifice?"

"Because it is our destiny." He shrugged. Crane pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. "Because we are bound to each other as if sealed at birth." He wnt on drawing her near. "Because your scent is as indelible to my nostrils as if it were my own."

"Crane, stop talking." Abbie smiled and pulled his face across the small distance. Her hands twisted into his soft hair and held him to her as she raked her lips across his mouth. If Crane had been surprised by her actions he did not show it. Instead, he leaned into her like a dutiful Great Dane and plied her with pent affections. He hummed a nameless tune into her lips and she answered his ancient call with her own song of wonder. Why had they never done this before? Why had they waited so long until it was nearly too late?

Why did it ever have to even be too late?

They came up for air in tandem, first he drew breath, then she. The entire time the unspoken sadness was the third person in the room. It looked on to the couple on the couch and wordlessly prodded them into action.

HE clutched at her head with one hand and tore at her shirt with the other. Abbie felt weightless and solid all at once as she felt his long fingers grappling with her hair, her skin her clothes. Abbie wanted to consume him, to devour every inch of him as he deftly pulled her shirt over her head. His mouth came to rest on her shoulder as she hungrily puled at his shirt. There was a ripping sound as the ancient shirt tore on its way; the tearing sent the two into a feral erratic rut.

Years later, she would still recall every finite detail of their first coupling on the couch of her living room. The rum soaked scent from the thrown half empty bottle; the heavy melancholy that the two of them attempted to ward off with ardent touches and fevered clutches. Abbie would recall how she fell over the coffee table as she tried to take off her jeans; and how he caught her in his great pale hands just as she slipped. She would recall her need for him reflected in his need for her.

On the couch, finally laid bare to each other as they should have been from the very start; their breaths came in ragged puffs as they stared at each other like virgin newlyweds. He marveled at her small waist and full breasts, and she was in awe of his narrow hips and broad shoulders.

There were no words as they allowed their two bodies' access to one another. Nude skin to skin contact felt like a balm on their souls, as if the past thirty years had been a desert for each and only now found the oasis after dehydration.

He met her brown eyes with his watery pools and asked a silent question. Abbie answered without even a nod and took him in her hand. With her other hand, she pushed him into a sitting position and rose to his lap. Abbie placed her hands on his shoulders and sank onto his waiting shaft like a home run on a perfect spring day.

They moved together like a symphony conducted in perfect synch. His hands held onto her breasts and she leaned in to kiss every inch of his face she could reach.

"Abbie.." he chanted between staccato breaths that were more prayer than biological. Abbie rose and fell as Crane undulated his hips; when she felt the wave rise to its peak, Abbie through her head back and allowed Crane's hands behind her to hold her up as he surfed the last wave with her.

In the after, they lay on the couch together panting, the air thick with their mingled scents and Crane found that Abbie was the perfect blanket.

"We would have met in the library." He said after a short silence. Abbie raised her head questioningly and he went on. "I met you in the library. At college." he nodded as if it made perfect sense.

"Crane, we are from two different centuries. There is no way I would have met you in a library in your time. I wouldn't have even been allowed into one-"

"I never said my time, or your time." Crane corrected pulling her impossibly closer. "Please, Abbie." He pleaded and she acquiesced. He wanted to have a history with her, and so she played along.

"I was looking for a copy of The Hound of Baskerville." She giggled into his shoulder.

Crane rolled his eyes. "I saw you in the stacks from the other side of the shelves." He went on. "I followed you as you moved through the books. You didn't know I was watching you."

"Yes I did." She smiled. "Why do you think it took me so long to find a Sherlock Holmes book?"

Crane squeezed her ass in his large hand and spoke. "I asked you out…"

"You stumbled and stuttered over each and every word." Abbie supplied. "It was cute."

"Is that why you said yes?" he smiled.

"I said yes out of pity. Where was our first date?"

"Oh, poor students of meager means, we would have dined somewhere befitting of our station."

"Crane, you did not take me to McDonald's for our first date."

"Abbie, I loved you upon first seeing you." He broke then, his eyes meeting hers as he kissed her nose. "I would have taken you everywhere."

She wasn't sure if it was such a safe game, but Abbie felt a comfort in it; an erasure to the crazy that their lives had been. "We would have dated for three years." She went on.

"I don't think I would have needed that long to know I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." Crane rose from the couch and carried Abbie into her bedroom. He laid her on the bed and sat at the end between her parted thighs. "Your scent is like ambrosia." He sang as he scooted between her thighs.

Abbie laughed despite herself. "That is the corniest thing I have ever heard."

"Still," he nodded as he kissed his way up her lean legs and inhaled deeply. "It holds true."

"Crane," Abbie warned bringing her legs together. "You don't have to—"

"Would you deny a dying man his final meal?" Crane asked from perched elbows.

"Don't," she pleaded.

He wasn't sure if she was begging for reprieve from his chosen act, or the analogy he used to convince her. Crane slid her legs open again and pounced upon her mound before she could offer another complaint. In the end, she was the one singing for his supper.

XxXxXxXxX

After they had come down a second time, they lie on the bed together. The alarm next to her read 11:47 pm in angry red numbers, and Abbie fretfully counted the hours.

As if reading her mind, Crane leaned over and flung the offending object across the room. "We did not date for three years." Crane insisted once he had settled next to her again.

"Oh really?" Abbie challenged with a raised eyebrow.

Crane turned to face her and placed his hand on her face. In the dark she was surrounded by him with every one of her sense. His touch, his scent, his taste mingled with hers still lingered where he had kissed her after she had exploded for a third time. Crane's voice rumbled in her ear and tickled her lobe as he spoke. "Abbie, I am a man out of time."

Her heart caught at his words. "I know, but I also know that whatever this is…was…will never be…"

"It's everything." He nodded in the dark. "If I'd had the chance with you, a real honest chance, Abbie, we would move mountains and slay dragons."

She brought her finger to his lips. "We can't sit here for the last six hours and play what ifs." She surprised herself with her own strength of purpose. Crane, however, wasn't surprised in the least. Abbie had always been the one to stay on point. He was the soldier but she always completed the mission.

Abbie pulled him closer and kissed his mouth. Wet hungry kisses that dragged across her lips and burned like fire. Their second round had been slower, not hurried nor frenzied. He had rocked gently between her drenched thighs and took the long way home. Now, Abbie found herself ready for round three. She touched him then, tested his readiness. "Annie," he choked. "I will die with you tonight until I have nothing left in me for all of eternity."

"Not bad for an old man." Abbie grinned as she allowed him inside again. She knew there would be pain and aching in the morning. But, it was to be a physical manifestation of what she would be feeling internally.

She welcomed the burn.

XxXxXxX

It was 1:46 am when they slid into Abbie's small shower stall together. The fumbled under the hot spray desperate for each other. Abbie clung to Crane's neck while he took her against the wall. They came together just as the water turned from tepid to freezing.

"Is it too late to order a pizza?" he asked.

Abbie nodded but padded across her kitchen floor and pulled out two frozen Tombstones. The look on his face made her want to cry as he realized it really was a last meal.

"Abbie," he began as they sat on the couch together waiting for the pizzas to be done. "If there was another way, you know I would."

She nodded. She knew. It still did not change the hard nugget of sorrow that was forming in her throat, the one that got bigger with each passing tick of her kitchen clock. "I don't want to go over this again." She whispered.

"June wedding? " He started in a forced jovial tone. "We had a June wedding. You seem like a woman that would—"

"Halloween." She righted taking a sip of the coffee he had produced. "And it was in City Hall. Just me and you. Jenny too."

He nodded and sipped his own coffee. "Miss Mills—"

"I'm back to Miss Mills again?" she teased.

Crane took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "We don't have much time left." He announced.

"I know that." Abbie spat back.

He took her hands again and laughed to himself that they were in the exact same place as they started this evening, only far less dressed. "Miss Mills…Abbie…."

"Spit it out Old Man."

"I don't want you to think I would not have you come with me….that is…"

She nodded. He would never ask her, and she would never go. Her skin color left a giant sized no in that column. "Crane, I know that was never an option." She gave him her best reassuring look. "I wouldn't put myself through that hell, nor would I want you to have to see it."

"If things were different…"

"They're not." Abbie pushed.

"But if they were, Abbie I would—"

Abbie raised her hand and set her coffee onto the table. "I thought we agrees we would not spend the last few hours playing what ifs. What ifs get you depressed and to be honest, Crane. I don't need help in that direction."

Crane nodded and twisted his hands nervously. "We did not consider anything about safety…"

"Excuse me?" she asked.

He looked at her then and spoke. "We did not consider…conception."

Without realizing it, she through her head back and laughed. Abbie felt tears running down her cheeks as she continued to howl into the couch pillow.

"Abbie, I fail to see the humor in a situation that could have far reaching repercussions…"

His righteous indignation only made her laugh that much harder. "Crane, please stop." She giggled.

He stared at her for a time then rose when the timer went off in the kitchen. Crane returned with the two pizzas and set them on the table in front of them. "I don't know why you are not concerned about it." He said after three slices.

Abbie shrugged. "I would rather not think about it, Crane. There are a lot of things tonight I would rather not think about. Like how to murder a red head."

He nodded as he chewed, a thoughtful look glazed across his face. "Still, if it is a possibility—"

"It's not," Abbie insisted and dusted her hands together.

"I would hate to leave you in a shameful predicament." He went on.

"Trust me, Crane. There is nothing shameful about that anymore." Abbie wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked at the clock again. Crane turned to get his own look at the clock and nodded. "Sun will be up soon." He noted with bowed head. The ritual was to be performed at sunrise. Katrina claimed it was the safest and most accurate time to achieve the right result. They had battled all night against the sun, and now it was one fight they knew time had come to lose.

"Abbie, if you fall—"

"Not gonna happen, Crane. Just let it go." She insisted.

They shared a look and rose together. He took her hand and led her to her rumpled bed.

XxXxXxX

"Didn't think you two would even be capable of walking today." Jenny grinned from the porch. Crane and Abbie stood on the steps of the cabin as the first rays of sunlight began to peak over the tops of the trees. Jenny wondered to herself if they even realized they were holding hands.

Abbie flashed her sister a sad strained smile and Crane had the decency to only allow his ears to blush.

Katrina pushed her way out of the screen door of the cabin with a haughty look of indignant disbelief. "My love, you have been gone all night." She addressed the man on the stairs.

"Yes, I have." Crane nodded with a small smile at the woman by his side.

Katrine opened her mouth in further protest only to shut it again. Her husband and his…._friend, _were not only holding hands, there was physicality between them that made her seethe with envy. She niffed and waved her hand. "I had to prepare everything on my own." Katrina pouted.

"I am sure you managed just fine. You needed little help to get here." Crane muttered.

"Ichabod, all that I have done I have done for—"

Crane raised his free hand to stop her. "I have precious little time left to spend with the woman I love. I will not spend it listening to you cluck." He tugged Abbie's hand and led her into the cabin. Abbie passed a look to her sister that could have melted sugar. Jenny gave her thumbs up and followed the pair into the house leaving the red head gawping after.

Jenny turned to Crane and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I know how you feel about my sister, and I know how she feels about you." Jenny rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He offered a sad smile and shook his head. "Either way, I am lost to Miss Mills."" He crooked a finger toward Katrina as she ambled into the cabin. "She has seen to that."

"It's not right." Jenny said staring in the direction of Crane's accusation. "She had no right to do this."

"True." Crane nodded. "But it is done, and there is no sense in mulling over it when there is work to be done." He turned to the younger woman. "Abbie will need you, in the coming weeks…will you give me your promise to look after her."

"That is a question you never have to ask, Crane." Jenny fired.

He raised his head and looked at Abbie as she seated herself at the table. "With all she has been through, I fear this will end her. Or me. Or both."

"You'll survive it." Jenny assured him. "Abbie may be a wreck for a while, and she will never quite get over it. But, eventually, she will be all right too."

"Indeed." He nodded slowly.

"One more thing," Jenny tossed pulling on the tall man's arm. Crane arched his neck to hear Jenny's lowered tone. "Watch yourself with Big Red." She shot a glance at the advancing woman. "She's….not exactly happy you and y sister made the beast with two backs. Plus, I think she's a bit…unstable."

"Duly noted." Crane responded with a knowing smirk.

Katrina came to his side and Crane smoothly pushed past her and moved to sit next to Abbie at the wooden table. He attempted not to go over what he would miss once he was returned to his time. The list was far too long with one name repeated for most of it. He sighed and tried to right himself to the mission. If there was one thing she had taught him it was to complete the mission no matter the pain of it.

For the first time in his life he had no idea what he would do or who he was or where he would end up. Upon returning he knew he would never be the same man that woke up in that cave two years ago. Too much had happened. Katrina had assured them that they would return to the exact same point in time, that he could live his life and be a father to the child that grew into pure evil. It was the one shining star in the entire ordeal.

He was certain he could not be a proper husband to Katrina any longer, the last ten hours with Abbie was proof of that. There were few options in his day for a marriage that was over; divorce which thanks to King Henry VIII he could get, but not without a stigma that would stain his very existence. Could he leave her to her own devices? Would Katrina be able to fend for herself? And what of the pregnancy he was returning to?

"You got a lot to think about." Abbie whispered at his side.

Crane nodded and drew a deep breath. "I don't want to have to think about any of it. This entire situation has rendered me unable to process anything properly." He took her hand in his and tried to smile but it came out broken and smudged.

"I bet Katrina has always had that affect on you. On most men." Abbie smiled and nodded.

"You have no idea. Only, I assure you none of it is for the better."

"Oh, I never doubted that."

Jenny rounded with books and bags in the center of the living room. She had spelled out every nuance of tactical necessity while leaving the voodoo stuff to Big Red. "Sorry guys," she announced with all the reverence of a priest "It's time to go."


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks so much for the reviews and favorites from so many of you. I hope you are strapped in.**

The quartet stood in a haphazard circle in a copse of trees that reminded Abbie of the day that twisted her entire life into shreds. All that was missing were the four oddly pale trees and a man crawling out of the ground.

He stood next to her, hands twitching out of control. Crane wavered between stoic acceptance and heroic hesitance. They marked the desired glyphs and began to speak the incantation.

She decided to not feel anything as the words spilled forth from the witch's mouth. Abbie listened as a woman with very little choices left and fewer golden days to spend them. She held on to his hand and he in returned held tighter as the words from Katrina kicked up a gust of wind that rustled through the tops of the trees where the sun was just beginning to peek.

Jenny and Abbie shared a look as a blue light began to form inside of the small circle they had created on the ground. The glow grew in intensity with the culmination of Katrina's words; the wind had picked up0 too enough that they had to shout to speak to each other.

Katrina finally stopped and moved to where Crane stood next to Abbie. She took his arm in his and gently pulled him toward the light. "It is time ,my love." She cooed.

His shiver erupted into a violently shake and his hand removed the slender fingers of his wife's from his aperture. He fired a steely glare at his wife before speaking. "Katrina, I may be returning with you, but you will find things are markedly different between us once we return."

"You think I don't know what you got up to last night?" demurred sweetly. "I forgive you, Ichabod. Like you should forgive me."

"I need neither your forgiveness nor your redemption." He said with a sour glare that was quickly withering the witch at his side. "I will have a time to say my peace to Miss Mills and you will either go ahead of me or wait over there." Crane pointed to a place at a far distance. "Wither way you will not interrupt me." Without even waiting for his wife's response, he turned to Abbie and took her hands in his.

"Don't say it." She begged with a shake of her head. "Because if you say it now I will hurdle myself through that damn portal."

He nodded, understanding as always. "I have to tell you," he began. "That my time with you…that our time together has meant more to me than a thousand years on this earth."

She nodded, tears burning unrepentantly in the corners of her brown orbs. "Crane, I can't let you go…"

He nodded with a sly smile. "Yes, you can Miss Mills, for I am quite certain that you will. And perhaps, the fates have smiled upon us in this last thing."

Abbie shook her head. "Don't be so sure." She insisted.

"Oh, but I am, it's all I have to cling to." He gripped her hands tighter as he spoke. "Memories, Miss Mills; memories and a fervent hope that something has survived of me in this time."

Abbie shook her head. "It does, Crane. I will never forget you." She could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks; tears mirrored upon Crane's pale cheeks. He grabbed for her then as a man would the last life boat on a sinking ship. He could do without all of the modern era technology and small magicks; but her—He was certain he would die an early death once returned to his own time. A death he welcomed if anything he had been taught about heaven were true.

They held onto each other until a voice from behind them spoke. "Listen, I am the last one to want to break up this Hallmark moment." Jenny spoke with cracks in her own voice that bled the emotion of the scene. She wiped her own tear from her eye before going on. "But the spell was pretty specific about timing. You wait any longer and you might end up in the middle of the Battle of Chickamauga."

He smiled at the taller woman. "I shall miss you Miss Jenny. I have known only two warriors fiercer than you and neither of them matched your fierceness."

"You and your words Ichy." Jenny sniffed with a hand on his shoulder as he pulled away from Abbie.

Crane turned toward the entrance of the portal that seemed to have shrunk in the two minutes he was saying his goodbyes. "Abbie, I love you."

She broke then; it was the last visage, the one thing she had not wanted to hear roll from his lips. Her face contorted into pure pain and agony as she held his hand one last time and choked out her return. "I love you too."

He nodded then!" He took off his coat and lay it across her shoulders, placed one last kiss on her lips that both realized was too fleeting before shuffling backwards. "Until we meet again, my love." He shouted. "Look for me? I will find a way to speak to you across time. I swear it!"

Abbie nodded and held on to Jenny as he marched into the portal with Katrina at his side. When they entered, the opening sealed with a sickening wet pop and suddenly, everything was silent. No wind, no sound, not even the roar of the nearby brook.

Abbie felt her body give as her knees buckled and she hit the ground. Jenny, still holding on, slid with her and the two cried together in the suddenly too empty field.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

He was right about the end of the apocalypse. Things returned to normal nearly the instance he left. Crane had told her that not only was he a man on borrowed time, but that his wife had gone against the natural order of things by not allowing his death two centuries hence. "She should have let me pass, it would have saved so many lives."

"You don't know that, Crane." Abbie had insisted. "For all you know you would have just died and there would have been someone else to take your place as a Witness. " She had shrugged. "Who knows who or what that person would be like. Or, if I could even put up with them."

He had smiled then and touched her hand. "You put up with me, Lieutenant. In my book that is canonical worthy of your own cathedral."

Abbie smiled as she recalled how she had tilted her head and smiled. How he had grinned back at her and admitted he could be difficult at times.

Now, she would pay anything for one last argument before a tilt at a windmill.

Jenny had been there for her that first two weeks. The two weeks that were the worst of her life. He had saved them all by leaving. Had turned the tide of a war they thought they would never win. Crane's return to his own time had even saved Irving; the evidence against him had evaporated into thin air.

There is no greater love than to sacrifice your life for a friend.

"You gotta get outta this cabin." Jenny groused one day two weeks into her self-imposed widowhood.

Abbie shrugged from the recliner that had once been Crane's favorite, and as she had imagined Corbin's as well.

Jenny huffed as she unpacked the groceries that Abbie hadn't asked for. Jenny was convinced her sister would pull a Catherine Earnshaw and simply stop eating. The very thought sent a shiver through the younger woman's body. "I got some of that tea you like." She offered in passing then cringed at the foolishness of the gesture when a moan came from Abbie's perch.

Crane had gotten her into that tea over a long weekend blizzard.

Abbie struggled to pull herself out of the funk that the remnants of grieving had left her with. When Jenny appeared in front of her out of nowhere, she realized she had been fruitless in her effort.

"We gonna get up today?" Jenny asked in a voice that reminded her of her least favorite psych nurses.

Oh how the worm had turned.

Abbie shook her head no, an improvement after two weeks of ignoring her sister's jabs. Jenny took it as a good sign. "It's just that," Jenny spoke as she carefully moved to stand in front of the recliner her sister had taken to. "It's been two weeks and staying here in this cabin and moping cannot be healthy."

"I got time off." Abbie retorted as explanation.

Jenny shook her head and jammed her hands into her hoodie. "Its not about time off, Abs and you know it."

"Jenny, I appreciate that you are concerned about me. I would be doing the exact same thing you are right now if the roles were reversed." Abbie threw her head back into the seat and sighed audibly. "I am in mourning." She drawled dramatically.

"You want a mint julep and a fan to go with that act?" Jenny fired.

"Jenny," Abbie whined.

"Abbie," Jenny returned.

"Just," Abbie started again. "I just need a little more time." She offered her sister what she hoped was a pleading look.

"Abbie, I get it. Really I do, and I understand you've lost the love of your life. But, I don't think Crane would have wanted you to close off and shut down. I seem to recall he was one for prodding and getting you to live."

She nodded. "It's safe here. I feel safe here. His things are here." Abbie sniffed the air and spoke. "It still smells like him."

"Surprised you can smell anything over your lack of personal care. When was the last time you walked near the shower."

Abbie shot daggers at her sister but folded her arms in retort. "You can leave at any time."

"So can you." Jenny said. The younger woman sighed and decided to try a different tack. She sat onto the arm of the large recliner and rubbed soothingly on her sister's shoulder. "Abbie, listen. I know this sucks, and we more than anyone know about our mutual abandonment issues."

A small spark shown through the older sister's visage; a parting in the thick concrete she had farmed in the last two weeks.

Jenny went on. "I need you to be okay, Abs." Jenny tried with honesty. "Because now? We are all the two of us have. "

Abbie nodded, only just realizing how much of a fixture the odd man had become in both their lives. That somehow Abbie had not realized that in her small way, Jenny had lost Crane too. "It's so painful." She croaked. "I feel so empty."

Jenny nodded. "As well you should, Abbie. But, its been two weeks and life goes on. I can't let you stay walled up in here forever reliving a past. I mean, seriously. This isn't even healthy by our family's standards." Jenny said with a tug on her sister's arm.

"It hurts." the older sibling whispered between cracked lips.

Jenny nodded. "At some point you are going to have to return to work." Jenny pulled with greater force, pulling the smaller woman out of the recliner. "To the real world." Jenny went on with a final pull that got Abbie to her feet. "To the land of the living."

"How?" Abbie asked in a small voice that sounded like a lost three year old. "How am I to do that?"

It was the fear in her sister's voice that scared her more than anything. Jenny knew she could talk a good game; she had the smart mouth and the harder edge to her words. Jenny was tough, but somehow she had always seen Abbie as tougher. The fear edged in her older sister's cadence made her breath catch in her throat and nearly made her gasp out loud. "For one," Jenny said once she caught her own breath. "We get you out of this crypt."

Abbie allowed her sister to lead her to the shower. Jenny even turned on the taps and brought her a fresh change of clothes. The warm water hit her body and made her shiver. Abbie had not realized how long she had been hiding in the cabin. The nights had come following the days, and the silence in the place had been deafening. She had been honest when she told Jenny she was in mourning. She felt like a widow, like the grief of watching Crane walk into that portal had engulfed her soul and left her bereft of any feeling.

Somewhere in one of her psychology classes in college, she had learned the five stages of grieving, that they were a succession of dealing with a loss of any kind but mostly death. Denial had come up until the point that portal enveloped the two out of timers and never reopened. She hit bargaining and anger alternately through the last two weeks, evidenced with holes in the cabin that even spackle would not help. Depression was seated next to her in the small shower and kept acceptance on speed dial.

She emerged from the shower clean and groggy as if she had crawled out of a bad flu. Jenny had made her some soup and a sandwich, both of which threatened to turn her stomach into napalm. "I don't know if I can eat." Abbie groused.

"Then this will be an experiment." Jenny said. "We need to get you back to your place, the mail has piled up and your neighbors are concerned."

Abbie nodded and took a spoonful of soup. It was so good she took another and another until she realized the bowl was empty. The sandwich was gone too and she had no idea how it happened, nor that she had even been that hungry.

"You've lost about eight pounds, and while I commend you on your effort, you still need to eat and keep going."

Abbie nodded and took the second bowl of soup wordlessly.

Jenny picked at her own meal but kept a careful eye on her sister as she powered through a second sandwich.

"Thank you." Abbie said later as they made their way to the Jeep out front. "For coming to get me."

Jenny shrugged and slid into the driver's seat. "Always."

XxXxXxX

She had popped her head out of the hole and realized it was still winter. When she emerged it was late evening and her apartment was in the exact same shape she and Crane had left it in two weeks ago. Jenny had left to go get her own car without realizing the time capsule she had left her grieving sister in.

Even the mug of tea he had not finished that morning still ruminated in its spot. Debating on whether or not to portray Mrs. Havisham, Abbie turned circles in her living room drinking in the mess her life had become.

Three hours later she had erased all but the intentional memories of Ichabod Crane from her apartment. Abbie was surprised with how emotionally draining and healing the act had been. She had even changed the sheets, placing them regretfully but necessarily in the washer.

She mopped the floors of his footprints left in the foyer, his fingerprints on the coffee table and the broken glass from her projectile anger. Abbie was surprised again at her own strength and resolve as she meticulously erased that night from her home without losing it.

"He's really gone." She announced to the empty apartment.

XxXxXxXxX

It was Jenny who got her through, Abbie was nearly ashamed with how much she had come to rely on her sister in the five months since her life came to such a vivid bifurcation. The worst had not been the two weeks she spent comatose in the old cabin. The worst had not been cleaning up after that night nor the shelving of the archives where they

The worst had come four months later as she lay in a hospital bed having lost the last piece; a final casualty of Katrina's devastation.

That night as Abbie shed more tears than what she thought she had left to spill; it was Jenny who held her hand and told her that everything happened for a reason, and that even though the baby was gone it was not the end of her world.

Shew had been so hopeful when she missed that month, then when the test came out positive. A final chance to say that Crane had been right.

Again.

He had had hope when she never did. He had assured her that the universe would align to their will.

She had called Jenny immediately and they shared a three hour conversation about life and hope and family and even names.

Abbie had taken desk duty immediately and promised herself, the universe and all involved that she would be careful. That she would treat this child as the precious gift it was. Jenny had stayed around more, had even gotten a job as a librarian at the Historical society. Somehow, Crane had rubbed off on her as well.

But in the end, all of her promises had been a moot gust of air.

When the last piece fell and Abbie had to admit defeat she folded. Not in the sad or exclusive way that she had when Crane first left. This time, this loss she shared with Jenny and it was her sister who pulled her through it. A month after leaving the hospital, she sat in her quiet kitchen sipping Crane's favorite tea. The ringing of her cell phone was jarring in silence.

"Abs, I had an idea." Jenny spoke.

"I'm listening." Abbie said.

"I've been going through a lot of the stuff here in the historical society and there is nothing here about Crane "

She knew that, it had been the first thing that the two sisters had checked. "Year, so." She shrugged as if her sister could see.

"Okay, so what if Crane and company went back to England?" Jenny posed carefully.

Abbie sighed audibly. "Jenny you and I both know he would not have done that. He was a patriot through and through." Abbie hated the small catch in her voice that seemed to always appear when she spoke of him. Jenny was kind enough, as always, to pretend she did not hear it.

"I know that, Annie. But what if he had no choice? The truth is we exhausted all of our resources. There is nothing about him or Katrina Crane in any records we can find." Jenny spoke quickly trying to sway her sister before Abbie had the chance to be agitated.

Too late. "Jenny, I don't want to do this right now."

"I know the timing sucks but hear me out. I have been putting out feelers in Great Britain, trying to find out anything I can about Crane."

"Jenny…"

"Abbie," Jenny spoke suddenly and sharply. "He was my friend too."

She could not argue with that. For all of her pain and loss, she had again forgotten the other side of the equation. Jenny had lost someone as much a brother as either of them were likely to get. "Okay, sorry."

"Right, so I got a hit from some British guy, sent me an email that he had a lot of information on Crane."

Somehow the sun had come out and the hard tight ball of pain that had replaced the gift begin to uncoil in her stomach. "Really?" Abbie asked like a small child receiving an unexpected Christmas wish.

"Yeah, he uhm…" Abbie could hear papers rustling in the background. "He didn't give me any info, said he would be in Sleepy hollow next month for some sort of conference."

"You got a name on this guy?" Abbie asked, her cop senses kicking in.

"I got his email, he was sort of…I don't know. It wasn't a bad vibe or anything—"

"Vibe, Jenny?" Abbie cast with her first real smile in two days. "Is that the technical term?"

"Shut up." Jenny smiled glad to hear a light tone to her sister's voice again. She had worried that the miscarriage would send her over the edge. "Anyway, no name just an email address. I don't know if this is legit or not, he said he would be travelling and may not be available for contact. Said we should stick to email."

"Send me the email address." Abbie spoke. "I'll see what I can find out myself."

Jenny promised to send her the info then promised to take her out for dinner tomorrow. Abbie wasn;t sure how to feel about the clandestine information. Jenny was the one used to shadowy informants and back alley info. Abbie still had a badge.

XxXxXxX

"Who the hell are you?" Abbie asked the computer in front of her. A month later and she still had not received a return to her initial email to Jenny's historian. She had even checked the conference manifest for that weekend and none of the names seemed to speak to her. Tarrytown was known for having historical conferences and this was one of the larger ones.

Abbie sighed and through herself into her swivel chair. It was nearly lunch time and she could not deny the hunger creeping its way into her periphery. She grabbed her leather jacket and headed for the glass doors. Since Crane's departure, people had pretty much left her alone. When she returned to work after a three week 'vacation,' a couple of officers had asked after Crane, but her glower sent them away with the idea of a failed relationship and a return to England.

She wished that was all it had been.

Abbie crashed through the front doors of the station into the bright sunlight. She had decided to walk to the small diner near the library across the street. Abbie had thrown herself into her work lately, though there had not been much more than stolen cars and lost dogs.

The bright sunlight of early spring hit her like a bullet to the soul. No clouds and unseasonably warm temperature played a smile across her face before she even realized it. She had lived, survived again and somehow she thought it would all be all right.

Somehow.

"Grace Abigail Mills?" Someone had called her name from a small distance behind her. The voice was too fleeting but also too familiar. Before she could turn around it…he spoke again. "Lieutenant Mills!"

It wasn't just the voice that froze her, the familiarity of the clipped vowels and over enunciated constentants coated in honey was bad enough. But, the pronunciation of Lieutenant…not specific to one person but coupled with that voice….

She wanted to turn around, but Abbie found herself frozen to the spot. The sound of advancing feet made her blood run cold. The cadence of step, heavy but light at the same time. "Miss Mills?" she heard again, a hand falling on her shoulder.

Abbie turned then at the touch. The face that greeted her was one she never thought she would see again, but not the same she left in that field six months ago.


	9. Chapter 9

**I hope you enjoy this. Some of you have written the most beautiful reviews and for those i am truly grateful. I know this is an angsty story but that is kinda my thing. **

**Anyway, thanks again and, as always, **

**Rock On**

But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent

The destined ill she must herself assay?

Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content,

To put the by-past perils in her way?

Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay;

For when we rage, advice is often seen

By blunting us to make our wits more keen.

W. Shakespeare

Confusion carved itself into his features in the same way Crane would encounter some self-declared asinine piece of modernity that irked him. The cars on the road continue to careen past them on the road outside of the station house as if nothing had changed.

"You look as if you have seen a ghost?" he spoke with a slightly different cadence than the person missed.

Shaking off the past she affected a smile. "And you are?' Abbie drawled as they stood in front of the diner frequented by the entirety of Sleepy Hollow emergency services.

The tall man shifted the box from his hands and tucked it under his gangly left arm. "I knew it was you. Your picture." He glanced at the box again. "It's uncanny."

"DO I know you?" she asked with folded arms and a sour affectation.

He seemed to redeemer his manners; the man ran his hand through his medium hair. "I got an email about looking for more information about an Ichabod Crane? I am the historian that was contacted by the Historical Society in Sleepy Hollow by a Jenny Mills…any relation?" he asked suddenly.

"You could say that. But I still have no idea who you are. You know my name; you even know my sister's name. But I don't know yours."

"Oh," He bowed quickly. "Right," The tall man thrust his free arm out toward Abbie. "Frederick Crane, though my friends call me Frederick."

"That sounds like a family name," Abbie spoke, "And I am assuming that last name is no coincidence."

"You would be right on both counts, Miss Mills." He grinned. "What better authority on the history of a family than one's own history I suppose." He shrugged.

"So how did you know what I look like?" she asked. Crane took nothing with him when he went back to his own time. He claimed he was too afraid of causing some sort of causality loop. Abbie had laughed then, recalling nights spent watching Doctor Who, one of his favorite shows.

Confusion enfolded his features for the second time in their brief conversation, followed by an emotion that Abbie could not recognize. "Miss Mills, is there anywhere we could talk? In Private?" His features schooled into something more serious and he even looked around briefly as if concerned for being caught out in public.

Abbie studied his affectation before nodding. There was only one place she could think of taking this man walking around in Crane's skin. "Yeah, follow me, but I want some answers." She insisted.

"Indeed," Frederick nodded shifting the medium sized box again and running to catch up to the diminutive woman.

XxXxX

"Is this the Historical Society?" he asked turning mad circles in the center of the archives. Franklin held his hands out with fingers outstretched as if he wasn't certain of what to touch first. He had placed the box onto Crane's old desk and was slowly making his way around the room filled with antiquities.

"Not any history that you're aware of, but okay." Abbie smiled and ran her hand over the desk that Crane had favored. His scent still carried through the dusty tomes and old leather chairs. She had avoided the place since the miscarriage. Before she lost the baby she would come here and sit, to feel closer to him. Sometimes she even talked to the old must walls and round windows an if they would answer back in his voice.

"It's astounding! What is the purpose of this room?" he asked from across the room, Franklin had found the back stacks and was running long fingers along the collected volumes.

"Look, as much as I would love to give you the two dollar tour, I kinda have some questions about your ancestor." Calling him an ancestor felt wrong in her mouth, bitter and hard like a left over chunk of food found after brushing.

Franklin turned and nodded; he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and moved closer to Crane's desk. "I knew who you were from the sketches and drawings. "

Abbie nodded, she had suspected as much. "Is that what's in that box?" she asked.

"And other things." Franklin nodded. "I need some answers. Have needed them for a long time but the terms were specific—"

"Terms?" Abbie asked moving closer to the box on the desk. "What does that mean?'

"You tell me Miss Mills." He tossed as he opened the box and withdrew a parcel. Inside was what could only be a letter, o old and fragile she wondered if it should be handled without gloves. "What is that?"

"It's a letter, from my ancestor Ichabod Crane. Addressed to you." Frederick nodded with a pointed look.

Abbie fingered the lid of the box and stared at the brown cube on the desk. "To me?" she asked. "Anyone else read it?"

"No, it was well guarded. But that is not all, Miss Mills." Frederick dipped his hand into the box and extricated more items. He lined them along the desk and stood back. Along with the letter was an old accordion folder that looked to be made of some sort of hide. An ancient looking key, and lastly an old wooden box.

"That stuff for me too?" she asked folding her arms.

"Yeah, it's the essentials."

"I don't understand." Abbie spoke but felt a million miles away, or maybe just 250 years, whichever was closer.

Frederick nodded and slid the box to the side. "It's a puzzle that has wracked my family for two centuries." He nodded. "We could not ever get the whole story and the items here were left in a safety deposit box in a Barclays. They were kept there for some two hundred years." Frederick turned and folded his arms. "For all we know, Ichabod Crane was the first customer to stand in line at the teller."

Abbie smiled imagining Crane standing in line for anything. He had always been so twitchy. His long fingers always told everything his rigid posture would not. "So you just waltzed im there and claimed it?" she asked with a frown.

Frederick shrugged, "I was in search of this family mystery, about the man who seemed to be so far ahead of his time."

Abbie did laugh then, laughed so hard she had to put her hands over her eyes to keep the tears from falling. A man out of time no matter where he landed.. God she missed him.

Frederick eyed her strangely from his perch across the desk. "Miss Mills," he asked watching her wipe tears from her cheeks. "You all right?"

He nodded and plastered on a smile. "Yeah," she insisted. "Yeah I'm good. " She sniffed despite her assurances to the not Crane. "I uhm…So tell me about this oddball in your family." She tried.

Frederick went into historian mode with no further prodding. He produced from his briefcase a stack of papers and his glasses which he pushed up onto his long nose and began. "Well, first thing, he fought for America in the Revolutionary War."

Abbie nodded unconsciously as Frederick laid out a story she already knew about Hessians and New York. She listened about his marriage to Katrina and his never substantiated work with George Washington. "You seem uninterested?" Frederick said after retelling about the Culper spy ring from 1780.

Abbie shrugged again, pulled out the chair and waved Frederick to sit down. "I knew this part, some of the stuff I had come across on my own."

Frederick stood for a moment without taking the offered seat. "Which begs the question of your initial interest in my great, great, great, great, great… oh too many greats…grandfather."

Abbie's heart left its proper place as she took in the implications of his words. She sat silent for a moment too long and Frederick finally sat in his seat to meet her eyes. "Miss Mills, I need to know some things."

"I'm sure you do, but so do I." Abbie insisted feeling she was in an interrogation but not sure if she was good cop, bad cop,, or ton the opposite side of the questioning. "I know this all seems unusual to you, but trust me on this, it's all above board."

Frederick shook his head. "I am not questioning your intent. I can read it in your eyes; you really do want to know. My question is, _why_?"

Abbie flexed her hands in contemplation and shook her head to clear her mind. "What I could tell you is a possible relational link between my family and your Crane. His time in America, a link between the Mills and the Cranes."

Frederick nodded embarrassed suddenly. "Ah, oh I see. A rather indelicate connection?" he not quite asked.

"You could say that, yeah."

"Okay," he agreed clearing his throat. "So, there was this three day hiccup, after he was cut down on the battle field. My notes say he was in a sort of coma when the tall soldier cut him across the chest." He looked at Abbie again, with an intensity that reminded her so much of her Crane she nearly went into tears again. "He disappeared from the hospital."

"For how long?" she asked.

"Well he was there for the three days, never woke up. Went missing and turned up outside Sleepy Hollow, he and his wife…uhm…"

"Katrina Von Tassel." Abbie finished for him.

Frederick gave her another curious look before going on. "Right; and that is where things seem to get…strange."

"How so?" she asked.

He cleared his throat again, pushed his glasses back up his nose and went on. "Well he was completely healed from an otherwise mortal wound for one. And, if that was not strange enough, he was….changed."

Abbie ticked her head as a means of interest and Frederick went on. "He wasn't the same. Friends had noted in journals and letters that the once 'too close' Cranes had become as strangers."

"People fall out of love all of the time." Abbie offered with outstretched hands. "I'm sure it happened even in the late 1700s."

"Not this abruptly." Frederick defended. "And completely. The Cranes were always a bit...forward for their time had often frequented dance establishments and late night parties—"

"They had those back then?" Abbie asked.

Frederick nodded. "You would be surprised. One of my post-doctoral thesis was on sexual practices of the time. They had some wild times back then. For instance, did you know they had parties where women would.."

Abbie waved her hand. "I'll read your paper later, Professor. You can even quiz me afterwards." She smiled. "What else happened to Ichabod Crane?"

Frederick could have been put off by her brusque manner, but instead Abbie noted a different reaction. He blushed and dipped his head with a smile. "I tend to prattle, I do apologize. My friends tell me that is why I cannot seem to maintain a relationship without the poor girl running off into the night."

"You're doing it again." Abbie sing-songed surprised herself at their easy banter.

"Right. " Frederick looked up as if to ensure she was not making for the exit. :"Right, so the Cranes weren't even able to be in the same room as one another after Ichabod's miraculous resurrection."

"You don't say." Abbie smiled.

"Some of the letters I found describe her as a real witch, apparently."

Abbie laughed then, so shrill and quick she was surprised that Frederick Crane didn't get up and run himself. She held her arm over her mouth for a moment before sobering. "A real witch, what did she turn people into toads and flounce around in a corset stuffed with the feet of unsuspecting small animals as a way of fending off evil?"

Frederick regarded her over the rim of his expensive glasses before clearing his throat again. "No, it was a euphemism. She was…cold difficult." He tilted his head and studied herstill smiling face with bemusement and mild concern. "You do know there is no such thing as witches, right Miss Mills?"

"Of course." She nodded seriously.

"Of course." He nodded in agreement. "But the two could not seem to patch up their differences. Even after the birth of their son Jeremy."

"Ok,. So there was a son then." She affirmed.

"Katrina was pregnant at the time of the disappearance; their son was born some five months later. They never managed to be together unless with their son. When Jeremy was two the family boarded a ship to England and remained there. Ichabod Crane reestablished his titles and lands. But, the interesting thing is he became a bit of a radical. He rallied against slavery and fought in Parliament for human rights, as well as women's right to vote."

Abbie nodded not surprised that the future had changed his past.

Frederick went on. "Mr. Crane wrote many pamphlets about a view of the future for England, that it could be a bastion of freedom and liberty as an example for the rest of the world." Frederick shuffled through more papers and looked at Abbie to gauge her intent. "He renounced his turn and received his full reinstatement into the King's service—"

"No, I don't think so." Abbie insisted. "Crane would—everything I have about him says he was a patriot…that he was proud to be an American..."

Frederick held up one finger in an action that reminded her so much of Crane her breath hitched. "He was, Miss Mills. But here is where I get to know some things. All of this…" he spread his hands displaying the accumulated life of the man she loved. "Has been in the possession of my family since the early 1900's; Ichabod Crane lived a life in relative obscurity, albeit a comfortable one. I have to ask, how did you come by so much information about a man who lived over two hundred years ago?"

"I have access to information as a police officer…" The nearly imperceptible shake of the man's head halted her defense. "Look, Mr. Crane—"

"Frederick, please."

She blows hard enough to move the hairs framing her face. "I really appreciate the care your family has taken in maintaining history. I realize this is an unorthodox situation but I cannot let too much out about what I know and how I know it." Abbie leaned back in her chair enough for a momentary flash of her badge. "Some of this is part of an ongoing investigation."

"I don't see how—"

"And I can't tell you either."

Frederick slammed the papers back into his briefcase and stood suddenly. "The things on the table are yours Miss Mills. I had come here to share as much as learn. " He removed a card from his pocket and slid it across the polished wood. "If you are in need of anything, please feel free to contact me. "

"Mr. Crane—" She spoke to his retreating form.

He turned quickly, nearly ferocious in his demeanor. "You insult my intelligence!" he intoned in a voice she knew all too well. "You know far more of this mystery than I. We are two pieces of a whole on this." He waved toward the table. "Whatever this is, whatever you need to keep close to the breast has been in my family for centuries, _centuries. _" Frederick stopped and Abbie watched his emotions pull over his face. "I just wanted to know. It's consumed me for years."

Abbie stepped back and studied the man in front of her. So much like Crane and yet so different. "I've got your card Mr. Crane, if anything comes up—"

"Right." He snarled turning through the door they had entered through.

Abbie sighed and took out her phone; no way was she dealing with this one alone.

XxXxXxX

"You need to read it." Jenny insisted in the candle lit room of the archives. She had come after her shift at the Historical Society and was nearly jittery in her excitement. Abbie watched her sister from the same seat she had taken three hours ago after the departure of Frederick Crane.

"Yeah, I know, I am working up to it."

Jenny nodded fingering the pouch. "It's just that, don't you wanna _know_?" she asked hopefully.

Abbie nodded from her perch but said nothing.

Jenny slid the pouch across the table toward her sister. "Well I wanna know, but its not for me to open. Its addressed to you, carried across hundreds of years." She sighed and ran her hands over her face in frustration. "Abs, listen I know this has been a shit year—"

Abbie's coughed laugh cut through the nearly silent room.

"—but this is the kind of closure that people pray for. Better than a last will and testament." Jenny said fingering the key that had come from the box. "I really want to know."

Abbie lifted her head and stared at the contents in front of her for the millionth time. "I don't think I can, Jenny. Once I read that." Her voice hitched in her throat. "It's the last thing I will ever hear from him."

Jenny nodded in understanding. "Some things are meant for knowing, Abs."

"You gonna go all Terms of Endearment over there, Jenny: she asked realizing how caustic her words sounded.

"Whatever." Jenny shook her head. "No, not whatever. I was the one standing by you this whole time. I was there to pick you up after he left, after you lost the baby." Abbie's face crumbled but Jenny went on. "I realize seeing that guy today was a bad shock seeing someone that looks so much like Crane."

Abbie flinches for no real reason but Jenny takes it as a positive sign.

"Look, Abbie, I am not saying open it now, but eventually you are going to want to read this." She tapped the pouch with her index finger but held her sister's gaze. "I get it, all right? You and me, we got a lot of baggage. A lot of not right shit got put down in our dossiers. Loss isn't something new to us, but Abbie, it will be all right. Eventually." Jenny quietly slipped the items back into the box and slid it under the table.

"I just," Abbie tried. "Jenny what was the fucking point?" she raged. "Why did God send me someone only to take them away? Dad, Momma, Corbin, you for thirteen years—"

"I'm right here, " she reassured her sister with a hand on the older woman's trembling one.

"I know that, but I just don't see what the hell this is all been for."

Jenny through her body back into the chair and sighed loud. "Permission to speak openly?" she asked with a smirk.

Abbie nodded. "Always,"

"Look, as much as you and Crane were connected there was so much baggage on both of you. He had issues and you had them too. I am not saying that it was a reason to not be together but the man had so many unresolved things from his life that both of you could have got lost in your own shit."

"Are you seriously telling me I am better off without him?" Abbie asked.

"No, what I am saying is that all your losses before Crane led you to be who you are right now, they made you afraid of everything. Life, love…me.. In the last six months you lost everything that a person could lose and still hope to be sane. Abbie, you made it through the fire. Think of it, you're like a Phoenix. What could possibly scare you at this point that you haven't already had to face head on?"

"You," Abbie choked with a hard squeeze of her sister's hand. "But I get what you are saying. Yes, I ran…hell I still run but…." Abbie looked under the table at the box. "Maybe it is time for me to read that letter."


	10. Chapter 10

**Just an honest thanks for all the kind words and love for this story. Some of you expressed concerns and al i can say is to let the story tell itself. **

**Rock on**

'Lo, this device was sent me from a nun,  
>Or sister sanctified, of holiest note;<br>Which late her noble suit in court did shun,  
>Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote;<br>For she was sought by spirits of richest coat,  
>But kept cold distance, and did thence remove,<br>To spend her living in eternal love.

W. Shakespeare

Abbie fingered the worn pouch and sighed. She wanted to read it in private but knew she owed Jenny a share in what happened. It was Jenny who found the historian and Jenny who had been there with her throughout the most painful six months of her adult life.

But whatever was in that letter had the potential to break her down to nothing and leave her gasping for air.

"Jenny," Abbie started

Jenny pushed herself away from the heavy table and stood. "I'm gonna go and get us some food." She announced grabbing her things.

Abbie mouthed a silent thank you to her sister who nodded and spoke again. "No matter what's in there, Abs. He loved you, and I like to think that, with your bond as strong as it is, he is still loving you no matter where he is." Jenny turned and left before Abbie could respond.

She reached across the table and touched the pouch again. The leather was soft and supple and smelled of age. She frowned as she considered where this would lead her and what sad truths lie within.

Jenny had been right; losing everything had taught her to stop running. Crane, with his absence had truly given her a precious gift.

Fingers dipped into the now opened pouch. She expected to find a solitary letter. Instead, she found a leather bound journal. In her hands the old leather felt like him, and bringing it to her nose she realized it even smelled like him. There were small markings along the binding and the covers where she imagined Crane held onto the tome for long periods of time. Abbie imagined him seated in some high winged chair with his long limbs folded neatly before him. The image of her Crane seated and writing in this journal sent an involuntary cry from her that split the silence of the large room.

The journal was large and reminded her of the old books surrounding her in the archives The paper was old but thick and Abbie guessed he researched to figure out which paper would survive over a 100 years of wear and tear.

Opening the first page and seeing his meticulous script announce her name was too much. Before she could read anything below the words of the text, Abbie slammed the book shut and slid it across the long table. It landed on the floor with a heavy and ominous thud.

Abbie sighed deeply before pushing herself onto the floor and crawling to the other side of the table where the journal had landed. On the floor, next to it was a neatly folded piece of arcane paper. Abbie slid the book to her, and then reached for the paper. She figured it must have fallen out when the book fell. Imagining a hastily written note from Frederick or some garnered research from a past descendant.

But the note had her name scrawled across the top in a handwriting that was not Crane's, but one she recognized.

Abbie rolled over on her back on the floor of the large room and fingered the folded piece of paper. She was certain the handwriting was Katrina's loopy large script/ Abbie wasn't sure how to proceed. She looked at the large journal next to her and then stared down at the note in her hands. Something some thing pulled at her to open the note first.

She pulled at the corner of the note and blew a breath as she opened it.

_Miss Mills,_

_I am not the person you wish to hear from, quite possibly the last person in the entirety of human existence in fact. But I wanted, no needed to pen you this missive in an effort to both explain myself and possibly right a terrible wrong that I have done upon my husband. _

_I chose to come through form Purgatory, it was my only wish to leave that barren place and return to the life I once had with my husband by my side. I didn't care about the repercussions. I didn't care about anything. For that I have paid and continue to pay the dearest of debts. My husband, upon his return wanted nothing to do with me. I am sure you know why. I am sure you believe, as I do, that this is my fault. I do not vanquish my own hand from the turn of events, Miss Mills. It may come as some modicum of surprise to you that I too regretted returning to our time, but not because I no longer garnered my husband's affections._

_I was wanted by my own coven. Hunted like an animal. They came for me not long after Jeremy's birth, forcing us to return to England. Another thing I caused my husband to lose. Another nail in the coffin of our 'marriage.' The only thing that made this bearable was our love for Jeremy. He was the only thing that kept us even living in the same house. But no more than that Miss Mills. _

Abbie could not fight the smile that softened her scowl at reading those words. Still lying on the floor she scooted out into the light and continued to read

_I am most certain that I have made terrible mistakes in my life, both before and after, and yet this one. This one thing that I have done to Ichabod has been the worst. It would have been far better to live eternity in Purgatory than watch the man I love live as a ghost for sixty years. He lived, make no mistake. And he fought. But, he was never the same. I have had over two hundred years to be angry, and bitter, and now? With age comes wisdom, Miss Mills. And with this newly found wisdom I can see the mistakes I have made, though with the best of intentions, were nonetheless mistakes._

_I have been the holder of these secrets until the right time. You were compelled to look upon this letter first because I placed a binding upon it. I needed you to see this before you read Ichabod's words to you. He wrote in that journal every day, every single day Miss Mills. To you. He fought against slavery in England and for women's rights, fights he only mused over before but your influence, his love for you created a greater need in him to alter history, or at least his fated role in it. England ended the practice of slavery nearly a hundred years before America managed it. I had wished he would have looked upon the news with his own eyes, but alas._

_I have and continue to live an unnatural life. My son grew to manhood and outlived my greatest joy to become my deepest sorrow. You may know of an old house that the town's children whisper of being haunted. You may have whispered these same fears once upon a time in your youth and chose to forget them. Find the old Fredrick's manner Miss Mills. It is where I replaced one Purgatory for another. _

_Katrina._

Abbie sat up from the floor and read through the letter twice more before shaking her head in disbelief. How could Katrina Crane have survived all of this time? And what were the secrets she spoke of?

"You all right?" Jenny asked bringing her sister out of her lethargy. "There's a perfectly good chair over there, I'm sure it's much more comfortable th—"

"You remember that old house at the edge of the woods? The one we used to run past when we walked through the woods?" Abbie asked as she stood.

Jenny placed the white bag with its tantalizing aromas of melted cheese and overcooked onions. "Yeah, the Fredrick's house? Why?"

Abbie shoved the note into her sister's hands and dove for the French fries. "Is this what was in the pouch?" she asked without looking at it.

Abbie nodded. Amongst other things." She said picking up the old journal from the floor. "Just read it and tell me I'm not crazy."

Jenny flipped the note over twice before waving it in front of her sister's face. "I hate to be the one to tell you that you have lost it. Abbie there is nothing on this paper."

Abbie snatched the note away from her sister and stared at the blank page. "What the fuck?" she said to the empty page.

"What is it? Abbie are you sure you are all right."

Abbie balled the paper up and landed a three point shot into the circular file on the other side of the room. "It was there!" she shouted.

Jenny placed her hand on her sister's arm, Abbie's first instinct was to shake it off but she sighed instead. "It was a note from Katrina."

"Katrina?" Jenny scowled. "As in Katrina Crane? As in Crane's wife? As in—"

"The one that caused all of this grief." Abbie finished with a nod. "Yeah, that Katrina."

Jenny's eyes darted to the trashcan before she spoke. "So, if she was a witch then it makes sense—"

"Is a witch." Abbie corrected with a huff. "IS as in still alive."

Jenny removed her hand from her sister's am and stepped back regarding her sister as Abbie once had back when they were teens and had disappeared for four days. "Wait, she's still alive?"

"That's what the note says. Says she is at the old Fredrick's House, Manor as she called it."

Jenny shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sense or not, I gotta go see this for myself." Abbie finished off the fries and made for the cheeseburger.

"What do you mean 'go see this,' Abbie?" Jenny interjected. "If this note really did exist—"

"It did, Jenny. She said she put a binding on it because it was for my eyes only."

Jenny nodded. "Okay, all right. Let me be the Devil in this one."

Abbie swept her hand magnanimously as she made quick work of her overdue meal. She could not explain why her appetite had magically returned and in full force, but she was going to ride it for as long as she could.

Jenny slid into the seat across from her and took a sip of Abbie's Coke. "If she really is still alive, and if she really is here in Sleepy Hollow, Abbie, she has to be a bit angry about…you and her husband banging uglies."

"Nice, Jenny. What is this? Fifth grade?" she asked snatching her Coke back from Jenny and taking a long sip.

Jenny shook her head. "Abbie, listen. If she is alive, and at Fredrick's house or manor whatever. Don't you think this might be some sort of a trick to get you over there? To, I don't know change you into a toad or something?"

Abbie laughed before she realized what she was doing.

"It's not funny, Abs." Jenny answered concern dripping from every word. In truth, Jenny was starting to worry if this was some delayed reaction to all that her sister had been through in the last six months. Maybe seeing that guy that looked so much like Crane had sent her sister over the edge, the final straw in a very large bale of hay that had been slowly pissing shards all over both their lives for years.

As if reading her mind, Abbie spoke. "This isn't the grief talking, Jenny. I know 15 years ago I left you out in the rain when we both knew the truth. But," she leaned over and placed her hand on her sister's/ "You have to trust me on this one." Abbie smiled and took Jenny's last French fry.

Jenny balled up the paper from her fries and tossed it into the trash. "It's not that I don't believe you, or even trust you, Abs. This," she shrugged for want of words. "Thing, it could all go tits up."

"I know that," Abbie answered. "But that note. There was something she was trying to tell me without telling me." Abbie finished off the last of her Coke and shook her head. "I have to see this through."

"You're not going alone." Jenny asserted.

"I have to this alone, Jenny." Abbie answered, but relented at her sister's glare. "You can ride shotgun. But, stay in the car."

"You're talking like you are going tonight."

Abbie tilted her head in disbelief. "wouldn't you?" she asked softly.

Jenny nodded and cleaned up the rest of their dinner. "Fine, but I am coming armed."

"Would not expect anything less," Abbie said with a smile and followed her sister to where they had hid their stash.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

"This place has always given me the creeps." Jenny said from the passenger side of Abbie's Jeep."

"This from the woman who was has travelled the world finding magical items." Abbie chuckled. They sat down the lane from the large Colonial house.

"Yeah, well." Jenny shrugged. "There's demons, and then there's haunted houses." She shivered at the thought.

Abbie nodded from her seat. "Yeah, I feel you on that one." The two fell silent for a time in the darkness. Abbie noted the time on the dashboard and shivered herself when she realized it was Midnight.

Witching Hour.

"Abs," Jenny spoke into the silence.

"Jenny, you know I am doing this." Abbie answered.

Jenny nodded and grabbed her bag off the floor. She handed her sister another gun.

"Jenny," Abbie said. "The woman has been alive for over 200 years, do you really think a gun is going to stop her?"

Jenny shrugged. "Can't hurt. Besides, I have seen you. You shoot at everything."

Abbie laughed despite herself. "Can't argue with that." She took the second weapon and placed it in her coat pocket. "What else you got, Q?"

"How do you know I have anything else?" Jenny asked. "Oh all right." She handed Abbie a small golden cross on a slender chain.

"What the hell, Kenny, she's not a vampire." Abbie said with another laugh.

Jenny huffed. "See the next time I try to help you fight the forces of evil."

Abbie laughed and opened her door. "Listen, keep my radio open to channel 342. If anything goes pear shaped, don't come in. You call for Irving, give him your location."

"Don't Thelma me, Daphne." Jenny fired back with a smile.

"Oh, you can come in, but you need to have back up."

"So, back up for your back up?"

Abbie hopped down onto the gravel road and came around to her sister's side of the car. "Listen, Jenny. Whatever happens in there. I want you to know I would not have made it through any of this without you."

Jenny scowled at her sister. "Stop talking like its your last will and testament. You're starting to freak me out."

Abbie dipped her head and laughed. "Okay, but just…."

"Hey, be careful in there. See you when you get out." Jenny said. Abbie nodded and began to walk away. "Fifteen minutes." Jenny said in a near whisper. "And God himself will have to hold me down from coming in there."

Abbie made a gun sign with her hand without turning around. She walked the distance to the back of the house. Somehow, knocking on the door didn't feel right. Weeds, moss and vines covered the ancient house that she had always imagined as beautiful in its time. But, its time was long enough ago to leave the place in shambles

Her bravado began to falter with every step nearing the house. She had always been braver, but braver still for her little sister. Abbie wasn;t sure if she had made the right choice in coming alone, or even coming at all. But, that letter, the thing she had been denying that she found in Katrina's words penned in that disappearing ink.

Hope.

Hope was a funny thing; it had more power than fear, than anything after all she had been through, there was a kernel of hope. Part of her hated having that bit of hope. Abbie had been ready to read of Crane's life and accept whatever closure his final message to her had to offer. But, this. If this was another of Katrina's games, then it would be fitting that the ancient witch kill for her own stupidity in having that small bean of hope poke its head through the soil of despair she had relished in for so long.

The concrete steps were cracked and beginning to sink into the soft soil of the back yard. Abbie advanced into the house after finding the wood door cracked open as if expecting her. She shrugged to herself realizing, someone was waiting for her.

The back entrance opened into a kitchen of some sort. She knew it was a kitchen from the endless rows of jars on the back wall. The jars looked to hold nameless gelatinous material probably older than the witch who resided there now. The house was dark save for a distant glow that lighted her way enough to follow.

The smell of burning wax and an intangible pungency of age left a near serenity inside the diminutive woman as she made her way through rooms filled with ancient furniture long turn asunder and cobwebs. Lots of cobwebs.

In the second room she moved through, she heard what sounded like skittering and muffled voices, Abbie placed her hand on the butt of her holstered gun ready to draw. She recalled her own admonishment to her sister and smiled at the validity of Jenny's words. _Guess I would shoot at anything._ Abbie shrugged to herself.

"Miss Mills, you've come." Katrina's voice came to her from the shadow that emerged around a corner suddenly. The woman stood in shadows and Abbie could not make out anything but her form. She was no longer tall and erect, the ancient woman stoooed and held herself up with a cane.

"Yeah," Abbie answered while willing her heart rate to go back to normal.

"Nothing to fear from me Miss Mills." Katrina answered and began to lead the young woman through to the main room of the house. "I have been waiting here for you for nearly two centuries."

"Maybe you could have decorated in that time?" Abbie said. But Katrina was not fazed by her humor. Katrina moved to the lighted fireplace in the once grand room. There was something cooking in a large pot on the fire there, and the old woman stooped to throw something into it.

"So, I got your note."

"Of course you did." The old woman answered. The light from the fire cast crazy shadows upon the haggard and craggy face of Katrina Crane. Abbie shuddered when she realized that Crane's wife now looked like the stereotypical witch.

"Live for two centuries and see how good time is to you." Katrina answered as if reading Abbie's mind.

"I think Yoda said that in a movie once." Abbie fired back. "Look, I am not here to trade beauty secrets—"

Katrina moved quickly for her age. She seemed to float as she can=me nose to nose with Abbie. "No," Katrina said. "You did not come here for beauty secrets, or glamours. You'd not need them anyway. Still young, fertile and beautiful."

Abbie took a step back, more from surprise than fear. Her hand found the butt of her gun unconsciously and the old woman cackled in laughter at her gesture. "Why, Miss Mills? Are you going to shoot me?"

Abbie took another step back, but Katrina closed the distance between them again. "Katrina, if you got me here to kill me, then I—"

Katrina floated back to the fire at lightning speed. "No, Mills. I did not bring you here to kill you. I brought you here to undo what I have done. To Ichabod." She turned from the pot on the fire. "And to you."

Abbie kept her hand on the butt of her gun and spoke. "I don't understand what you are saying. How can any of what happened be—"

Katrina's quick movement brought her back to Abbie's side. She took the hand that Abbie had rested on her weapon and tipped it into the light for a better view. "You lost the child, I see." She said.

Abbie tried to pull her hand from the cold clammy grasp of the witch, but Katrina held firm. "I did." She admitted finally. It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask the witch how she knew of it, then realized she was talking to a witch; how would she not know?

Katrina nodded and rubbed a cross into her palm. "I am terribly sorry for your loss. A child's death is a horrible thing for any mother to live through. Even with all of the sorrow that Jeremy brought upon us, I still cherish the time I lived as his mother."

"What happened to Jeremy?" Abbie asked. Katrina let go of her hand and moved back to the fire.

"You've met Frederick then?" she asked over her shoulder as she stirred whatever bubbled in the pot over the fire.

"Yes," Abbie answered, not sure if Katrina wasn't still planning on killing her after she had the information she wanted.

Katrina nodded and turned to ward Abbie. "Then you know it is possible. I have worked tirelessly to ensure that the right lines carried through. All of my hard work cannot come to naught."

A voice crackled through the police radio Abbie wore on her shoulder. "Abbie, you all right in there?" Jenny asked.

Abbie held up a finger to the woman by the fire who nodded her compliance. "We are all good in here, Jenny. Mind waiting a little longer?"

"What the hell is going on in there?" Jenny fired back though the radio.

"Yeah," Abbie answered. "It's just Katrina likes to talk." She answered with a smile toward the witch. "In riddles."

"All right, Abs. Five minutes, you buzz me or I am coming in."

"Got it." Abbie answered and released the talk button. "Katrina, I really need to know what all of this is about."

"Before we go on, before I do this for you, and for Ichabod. You have to promise me a favor, which would be most kind."

Abbie tilted her head, I don't know if I can." She said slowly as if coddling a small child or a mental patient wielding a gun.

Katrina moved to her again, taking both her hands Abbie could see the pleading in her ancient eyes. "Miss Mills, I need you to end this for me. Once I do this, I need you to kill me. I have tired of living, I have seen too much and I cannot do it myself." Katrina lowered her gaze to the floor. "It is my punishment for what I have done. To live and lose everyone I have ever known or loved."

Abbie felt a pang of sadness for the old woman that Katrina had become. Everyone says immortality would be fun, hundreds of books have mused it. But, the reality of a life immortal stood in front of her near weeping and still speaking in riddles. "I still don't know what it is you are going to do for me, and Crane."

The smile that creased the old woman's face was an echo of the bright one Abbie had seen long ago by the lake with her feet in the water. "That is what I have brought you here for." Katrina crooned pulling Abbie near to the fire.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry this took so long, it is not my intention to abandon either of these fics, i will finish both. Once summer comes i will have more time to write.**

**Enjoy**

''O, pardon me, in that my boast is true:  
>The accident which brought me to her eye<br>Upon the moment did her force subdue,  
>And now she would the caged cloister fly:<br>Religious love put out Religion's eye:  
>Not to be tempted, would she be immured,<br>And now, to tempt, all liberty procured.

**-W. Shakespeare**

The stench of fetid age filled her nostrils as the witch pulled her closer. Katrina brought her closer to the fire and leaned over the pot that bubbled over it. "I have seen many things, Miss Mills. I have forced many marriages, births deaths just to get this right."

"I don't understand." Abbie insisted again suddenly wishing she had told Jenny to come in,

Katrina threw back her nearly bald head and face twisted into a mass of wrinkles that seemed to be going in the wrong directions. The laugh she let out was akin to the sound a drawer full of knives makes when jangled. "Miss Mills. Have you not figured it out? You, the once prophesized Witness of the Apocalypse?"

Abbie managed to free her arm from the old woman's strong grasp and halted in her step. She folded her arms and shook her head. "No, Katrina." She began. "You and I were never besties, so I am gonna assume that whatever this is, whatever this is about, isn't for my best interest." She turned on one hell and moved toward the entrance of the large room she had entered in. Katrina stepped in front of her before she could take a step.

"I have worked too hard for this." Katrina hissed, her sunken wrinkled eyes blazed red and bulged. "You have no idea what I have been through, sacrificed, for this."

Abbie drew her gun and aimed at the woman. Katrina folded into herself and drew away from her. "You don't…you cannot kill me until I have finished." Katrina insisted.

"Finished what?" Abbie said through clenched teeth.

"You little fool." Katrina said with another cackle. "I am trying to help you."

Abbie studied the woman in front of her. Katrina had changed for sure, at least physically. Her once unnaturally red hair had faded into a dull gray and sparsely covered the mottled scalp it sprouted from. Katrina's long frame was now hunched and bent; angled into a fragile looking gremlin. But, contratry to what the witch accused; Abigail was no fool. She knew that the woman in front of her was powerful, angry, and possibly more than a touch insane after having lived so long both in Purgatory and here. "Katrina, you and I have nothing further to—"

"We could compare notes. On Ichabod, that is." The old woman cackled. "You have, as I am aware, had relations with him. Have you not? Though, I fear that even after 200 years, you have been more familiar with his male parts than I have been." Katrina spat on the floor. "We could discuss the merits of loving a man like him. We could talk about the weather." Katrina went on. "Or, I can return Ichabod to you. Which one shall I perform, Miss Mills?"

Abbie lowered her weapon but did not holster it. "Return him?" she asked with all the incredibility of when Crane had first ended up in her jail cell. "He's dead, Katrina. No offence, but I have seen your work, I don't think you could pull that one off."

Katrina's icy fingers surprisingly strong, wound their way around the young woman's wrist that still held the weapon. "If I wanted you dead, Miss Mills, I could have done that the days you ran past here with your sister. Or, I could have visited your bedroom in one of the many foster homes that no one guards." Katrina gave a withering look to Abbie before speaking again. "I could have murdered you in your cradle and no one would have thought it was anything more than cradle death." She said. "I brought you here to fix what has been undone improperly. By me."

Abbie put her gun away and turned toward the witch again. "How are you going to bring him back?" she asked in a small voice.

Katrina smiled a toothless grin and zipped across the room, returning with an ancient looking book in her gnarled hands. "What did you think of Frederick?"

"Katrina—" Abbie warned.

Katrina whipped her hand out in a waving fashion with the hand closed into a shush. "He looks remarkably like our Ichabod, do you not think?"

Abbie wasn't sure how she felt about Katrina referring to Crane in the shared pronoun. In fact, she was starting to feel as if she should really duck out. Katrina had been fragile when Abbie first met her, but now? Now the woman was a few eggs short of an omelet brought on no doubt from all that time alone hiding in this house.

But she needed to know, that hope had coiled up in the pit of her stomach and was settling in for the long season. She wanted to believe that whatever level of crazy Katrina had up her sleeves was a payoff, even if it was just one last chance at goodbye. "Look, Katrina," she said finally

Katrina waved her away again and continued. "I made sure all those years that the right line would carry through."

"I'm sorry?" Abbie asked.

Katrina's smile was a shadow of the woman who had once dangled her feet into the lake by the cabin. She tipped her head and for an instant Abbie could see what Crane had loved about her. "I have worked so hard Miss Mills so you can have him back.

The white hand of hope gripped itself around her throat and Abbie had to choke the next words out. "Are you implying that you influenced the family line so that Frederick would look like Crane?" she asked.

Katrina slyly slid her thin arm around Abbie's waist. "Oh," she beamed through ancient eyes and a hoarse whisper of age. "I've done so much more than that. I have made a door that Ichabod need only step through. Well, and you must do the work as well. "

"….Abbie!" Jenny's voice came through again.

"On my way, Jenny. Be there in five."

"You'll not leave yet." Karina spoke.

"Yeah, you're not giving me a lot to stick around for, other than taking credit for building the perfect Crane."

Katrina's eyes flashed yellow. "You do not believe? I should not be surprised. He often spoke of having to convince you. But, when he died an old man, I made him a promise." Katrina tipped her head in remembrance of a time that could only have been centuries ago. "When I held his hand and promised him I would get him back to you, it was the first time he had even touched me in twenty years. "

Abbie flexed her hands in front of her as in apology. She could not imagine what Katrina had endured.

Katrina waved away the pity. "Oh, we had not lived together for some time. After Jeremy p—" she stopped then, and the frailty crept over her features. "After my son…we barely spoke to each other. Let alone resided in the same house. At times we didn't even reside in the same country."

Abbie looked around and sighed. "Katrina I am sorry for all the misery you have been through in this life. I don't know how you endured it. But, I need to get back now. Its late and my sister is waiting for me."

"You'll come again." She said over her shoulder.

Abbie doubted the veracity of those words. Hell, she even doubted if what she had just experienced was real. She followed her same path in and made for the sanity of her car.

XxXxX

The sound of the car door opening was as welcome as the crack of the bat in the bottom of a losing ninth inning. Jenny scooted her body closer to her sister's as Abbie dove into the front seat. "What the hell?

Abbie placed her gun on the dashboard and rubbed her face. "She is bat shit crazy."

Jenny started the engine and pulled out of the trench the Jeep had settled into. "This is new information?"

Abbie shook her head. "I had hope, Jenny." She said finally.

Jenny nodded but said nothing. She wanted to ask a million questions but knew her sister enough to know when to wait until Abbie was ready to talk.

Abbie sat in the passenger seat as her sister navigated through sleepy town streets dusted with fine morning haze. The witch had offered her a story, such a strange proposition that she was unsure if it was all a dream. "Jen," she began killing the silence that the drive had made. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Jenny chanced a look at her sister to gauge her level of seriousness before answering. "I'm assuming this has something to do with your talk with Katrina the Undead Witch?"

A small smile broke across Abbie's face and she nodded. "She, uhh." Abbie tried as they pulled into the parking for her place. Jenny and Abbie made their way into the house without another word. Jenny grabbed two beers out of the fridge as Abbie changed into her pajamas.

"So what's the deal?" she asked as Abbie plopped into the seat next to her.

Abbie thumbed the cap off of her Fat Tyre and took a pull long enough to make Jenny nervous. "First off?" she began then wiped her mouth. "Katrina did not keep well."

Jenny nodded. "Her stint in Purgatory kept her from aging. I can only imagine what two hundred and fifty years without saran wrap would do. "

Abbie smiled and took a long pull off of her beer. "I think she was hinting at reincarnation."

"Of Crane?" Jenny spurted.

Abbie nodded. And went on. "She didn't leave a lot of information, just scooted around things like she was trying to keep me interested without giving too much to go on."

Jenny shook her head and popped open her second beer. "So, what do you wanna do?"

Abbie let her head fall back and shook it. "I want this to all be over." She said. "Crane's been gone for six months. I found out about his life in the past. He lived, he fought, had a son…" she stopped then as if something caught in her throat. "Although, I get the impression something went down with Jeremy Crane. Katrina said in her note that he had become her greatest disappointment. Then, she hinted at something tonight."

"You think it's important?" Jenny asked.

"I think all of this dredging of the past is just gonna leave me where I was yesterday before Frederick Crane dropped in. I think at some point I have to let all of this go and move on."

"To what?" Jenny asked. "The Apocalypse has been avoided; there are no demons or ghouls hanging around town,"

"Other than the witch in Fredrick's Manor and the ghosts lingering in this apartment."

"I'm going to bed, Jenny." Abbie rose and moved toward her room with the half empty bed. "See you in the morning."

XxXxXxXxX

At two o'clock in the afternoon a tall and familiar figure stood just inside of the Westchester Police Department. He slid a hand along the wood moldings and started down the long hallway that lead back into the police bull pin.

A diminutive woman slipped from her office and nearly collided with the still man. "Crane?" the buxom woman in police uniform and dark curly hair beamed. "How dare you come back to town and not tell me?" Her demeanor quieted quickly and she leaned in. "Or, are you trying to surprise someone?" Wendy stepped back and appraised the tall man in front of her. "Must be a surprise cause you sure cleaned up different. "

Frederick Crane warred with a sense of confusion and an edging feeling of familiarity. He regarded the woman and could not fight the desire to call her Wendy. "I'm sorry? Have we met?" he asked both to her and himself.

She laughed heartily and slapped his arm. "Good one, Crane. She's at her desk, I can't wait to see her face when she sees you."

"Her?" he asked pushing his glasses up on his nose, a habit he had maintained since childhood. "I am here to see Lieutenant Abigail Mills. She's not expecting me but if you could direct me to her offices I would be most appreciative."

Wendy laughed again, chucked a thumb in the direction of the bullpen and walked away laughing. "You are an odd egg, Crane." She chuckled. "She's at her desk, same as always now."

'Thank you." He said to her retreating form.

"Don't thank me," Wendy announced over her shoulder. "You showed up on Thursday, you know what that means around here. First rounds on you."

He studied the stranger as she walked away and set off in the direction she pointed. The large room opened up at the end of the hallway, filled with officers both in uniform and plain clothes. All seemed in various states of work. He passed an office with a name that seemed familiar to him. _Irving, Irving, where have I seen that before?_ He asked himself as he made his way through the room.

He spotted her right away as he entered the large room, her head was bowed over a computer screen and one hand held a telephone receiver. Some officers waved to him or nodded as if they knew him. Frederick Crane was no constable, but he was smart enough to know that civilians weren't allowed into this part of the station without some identity check. The greetings her received were nonchalant enough and familiar enough to confuse him

Had he been here before?

There wasn't a name for the _deja vu_ he was having, usually when you experience it's a personal experience and the rest of the world around you has no idea your sense of familiarity with a place. This, this was something entirely different. The inhabitants of the area kept waving and nodding as if they knew him. One even shushed everyone else as if there was some huge surprise in the works. The room suddenly fell silent and all eyes turned to the tall man as he advanced upon Lieutenant Mills.

It was the silence in the room that made her look up. Meeting his gaze, she ended her call abruptly and Frederick read the curse that fell from her full lips.

"I have been having the most awkward experience." He said as he stood in front of her desk.

"You don't say?" Abbie returned. "All right, people. Back to work. Nothing to see here." She grabbed her leather jacket and motioned for him to follow her outside.

"Have I been here before?" he asked in earnest. "Because I get the distinct impression that all of those people... " He waved behind them as he stumbled to keep up with her pace. "Know me."

"They don't know you. They think they know you but, it's not you they know."

"Oh," Frederick answered "Well, that clears it all up then." A beat. "Wait, no it doesn't." He reached for her arm as they flew down the stairs. Abbie jerked at his touch and spun on him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked more accusing than inquisitive.

"That is precisely the question I had for you just now, only different pronouns." He watched the woman in front of him stare him down and understood how someone so tall would be an officer. With I sigh he spoke again. "I came to…Yesterday I wasn't very nice." He finally finished wondering why this woman left his usual verbosity lacking.

"Okay," she said with a nod but said nothing more.

Silence in interrogations was a little used but effective way of garnering information. He had read that somewhere in his studies, and mentally kicked himself for not only falling for it, but being unable to fall out of it. "I thought, since I kept you from your lunch yesterday, perhaps I could…" he motioned to the diner across the street in an attempt at definition.

"Lunch?" she asked arms still folded.

"Well, all right, since you insist." He tried with a smile. He watched something flash behind her eyes and then a seemingly unwanted smile dance at the corners of her mouth.

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

He suddenly felt exposed, naked, as in those dreams when you are taking an exam but realize you forgot to put anything on and somehow made it through the trip to the school and half the examination without anyone realizing you were as naked as vegan smoothie. "I just, its…..i thought…" He threw his hands into the air and blew a harsh sigh. "I didn't see a ring, or anything and I assumed…."

"You assumed," Abbie retorted before turning and fast walking in the opposite direction of the station. He skipped a few times but eventually caught up to her.

"Is it a proper assumption? " he wheedled hoping for just one more word with her.

Abbie didn't answer as they turned another corner. He didn't think she knew hwere she was going, but he knew it was irritation fueling her pace.

"Every nickel makes a knuckle." He said with a broad smile.

Abbie stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Cars passed by but in that instant, when she looked upon him with a familiarity that made his breath hitch, he felt the blood in his body run backwards. "What did you day?"

"Every nickel makes—"

Abbie held up a hand to stop him. "I heard you the first time. " she insisted.

"Then why did you ask me to repeat it?" he pressed.

Abbie shook her head and began walking again. "Nothing."

"No," he said grabbing her arm again, this time she allowed his hand to rest where it was. "No, something I said, I can see it in your eyes. Why is that familiar to you?" he stopped following her and stood in the bright cool afternoon. It was there again, only different this time. He rooted through hhis memory and came to an odd phrase that was spoken by an American baseball player once. It's deja vu all over again. That was the only way to explain it. He turned circles and took in the town around him. There was never a time in his 30 years that he had ever stepped foot in New York, let alone Sleepy Hollow. Hell, he had to GPS the place to even get from the airport in his rental

And yet.

Standing there, in the sunlight, running after this tiny woman, something about it was…

Déjà vu all over again.

"Why is that familiar to me?"


	12. Chapter 12

**I know it has been a shile, but RL s a RB. So here is one chapter and my other story will be updated soon too. **

**Enjoy and sorry **

''Now all these hearts that do on mine depend,

Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine;

And supplicant their sighs to you extend,

To leave the battery that you make 'gainst mine,

Lending soft audience to my sweet design,

And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath

That shall prefer and undertake my troth.'

W. Shakespeare

He stood in the bright sunlight of the spring afternoon. Abbie watched emotions crawl across his face with all of the determination of ants at a picnic. Frederick turned to face her then, his hand on her arm. "Miss Mills, have you ever experienced something so familiar that you question your own sanity."

Eyes that looked upon a different man with the same face offered an expression only the original would have known. Abbie shrugged.

Frederick pointed his elegant nose upward and sniffed. "What is more disconcerting." He began "Is that many of your fellows seemed to recognize me."

"Odd that." She offered moving toward her jeep.

Frederick skipped in order to catch up to her pace and pivoted around parked cars as she navigated the lot. He pulled at the door as she brought the driver's side open. "Miss Mills," he asserted with his hand still on the car door. "What is it that you are not telling me?"

Abbie folded her arms and smirked. "I didn't realize I had to tell you anything." She said.

He blew a heavy sigh upwards and flexed his large hands. "Please, don't be intentionally obtuse. " Frederick brought his hands to his hips but still did not meet the small woman's gaze.. "It's been the weirdest twenty four hours of my life. I have been in more normal haunted houses."

Abbie smirked at the reference and dipped her head "I'm with you on haunted houses. Those things give me the creeps."

Whatever mood Frederick Crane had manifested after his sojourn into the Westchester County Sheriff's Office was over. He finally met her gaze and offered Abbie a staggering smile that was so Crane like she staggered back a half step. "Miss Mills."

"Abbie," she corrected finally sliding into her vehicle.

"Abbie. " Frederick asserted with a nod. "Might I interest you in lunch?" he asked head ducked into her window.

Abbie stared forward knowing this was a bad idea, but he was so much like the man she missed. She placed her small hands onto the steering wheel and rolled her shoulders. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Still crouched along the side of the Jeep with his hands dangling on the open window, partly for leverage and partially to keep her from driving away, Frederick tilted his head again and spoke. "Why?" he asked. "Because I am just visiting here?"

She wanted to laugh at the near correctness of his words. Wanted to cantor at his unknown self-depreciation. Abbie was no more sure of what Katrina had planned than she did before her trip to Fredericks Manor. What she did know was that it was not fair to love someone for something they weren't She could never allow herself to be involved with Frederick Crane; either he was a soul waiting to be walked in, or he was a body she would never have the right soul placed into. Either choice was not fair to the man stooping on the side of her car begging for a not date. "No," she finally answered with a squeeze of the wheel in her hands. "I just got out of a really intense relationship."

"It's just lunch, Miss Mills." He insisted. "It will give me a chance to get some answers out of you."

"And that's a selling point?" She fired back.

He nodded and came around to the passenger side of the car. Against her better judgement, Abbie unlocked the passenger door and faced forward as he slid into the seat. "It's whatever it needs to be."

"Suppose we could give it a try." Abbie offered turning the car over and easing out of the parking lot. "I mean, it is just lunch after all."

"DO or do not. There is no try." Frederick replied without facing her.

"Okay, now I see why your friends think you chase off al the ladies. I mean, Empire Strikes Backreally?"

"Frederick smiled. "I love that one. Although the original is still far superior to the –"

Abbie waved a hand and tried to hide her smile. "This is why women run away from you." She offered.

He pouted for a second and then a grin suddenly erupted across his face. "And yet, you are here."

XxXxXxX

Abbie ended up driving them to a small diner in Tarrytown that she and Crane had visited only once on their return visit from the psych hospital there. She pulled into the ancient diner and parked the car on the gravel along the grassy patch next to the highway. "This is different." Frederick offered as he surveyed the location from the passenger seat. "And distant."

"Good food." Abbie said.

"And clandestine." He pushed again

She plastered on her best grin and nodded. "Good food without any hidden agendas." In truth, she had been reluctant to parade him around a town that had gotten used to the sight of Crane in his pirate garb. It was bad enough she knew she would have to address what happened with her coworkers; to go any further with others around town would be too much at once. Crane had been a fixture in the library and historical society in his short time in 2014, how could you miss someone so smart and seemingly out of place?

Abbie made the first move and opened her car door. It reminded her of how many times she had to lead to show Crane how to do something in this time. Frederick stuck his long legs out of the door and stretched as if he had been on a cross country journey. "Right," he spoke pushing his glassed further onto his nose.

The diner really did have good soup, served by a woman whose hair seemed to defy gravity under the state mandated hair net. Frederick seemed fascinated with the tabletop jukebox and Abbie shook her head when he began digging for change.

"Ready to explain to me some of what is going on, then?" he said with a smirk curving his familiar features.

"We can trade information freely," she offered with a harder edge than she intended. "As long as you realize I need to know about more of the Crane Family."

"You have the journal." He said leaning back in the seat in surprise. The waitress came and dropped two sweating glasses of water in front of them. She turned on her heel wordlessly after slamming down two menus. "Friendly service." Frederick noted.

"It's a New York style diner, what did you expect?" she said without missing a beat.

"Miss Mills, there are things about this whole thing that I would appreciate knowing." Frederick said.

Abbie laid her hands on the table, opened palmed and shrugged. "What do you need to know?"

He seemed taken aback by her sudden willingness to answer his questions, as if on cue, the friendliest waitress in the world cam e and served coffees neither one of them ordered. Abbie held her hand up to protest, but Frederick shook his head and smiled. "What is going on?" he asked after the waitress left again.

"We are drinking unrequested coffee in possibly the worst diner in the tri state area." Abbie's words elicited small smile and a head tilt from the man across from her.

"Miss Mills—Abbie, can I call you Abbie?" he asked

Abbie wasn't sure how she felt about the request, but she shrugged anyway.

"Anyway ,_Abbie_." He tried and paused after the word. "Can you please tell me who everyone seems to think I am?"

She had earned her poker face from countless pool hustles that helped her get through college. Corbin could only help so much those first three years and she had been taught to pay pool at her father's knee from the time she could barely reach a pool stick. She chided herself for being surprised at his ability to figure things out. "What do you mean?"

Frederick say back again and offered the same smug smile that Crane would get when he had mastered some new technology. "On ast least four separate occasions in the last two days, I have been met on the street bu people asking me how I was and how was my extended trip." He went on. "And today, at your police station, your colleagues seemed to believe I was someone thery were familiar with."

"Oh really?" she said sipping her coffee with half hooded eyes.

"Yes, even the receptionist, who, I might add accosted me and apparently because it is Thursday I am supposed to purchase the first round?"

"Do tell," she smirked recalling the bet lost to Wendy over an old cartoon character and a skee ball tournament.

"Not to mention," he went on leaning forward as if afraid to speak the next words out loud, "I myself am experiencing enough de ja vu to fill a Hitchcock film."

She smiled and nodded "Never would have pegged you for a fan. I like his use of Doppelgangers and parallels .. When I was in college I took this class—"

"Lieutenant Mills," he warned. "I am quite familiar with the works of Hitchcock, but I think we were talking about something else."

Abbie mock pouted before nodding over her own menu. "Sure, yeah. What were we talking about again?"

St her words, Frederick slammed the menu on the table. The waitress came over and slammed two baskets of fries in front of each of them and rumbled off with a muttered curse under her breath. It was then that Abbie recalled that they had visited this diner but it was not a good experience. Crane had only been awake for three weeks when they had come to visit Jenny for help. He had been a right pompous ass and had given the waitress a hard time then.

The same damn waitress that was eyeing them from behind the large counter in front.

"You may not want to eat any of those. " she warned the man in front of her as he reached for the plate of fries.

"Why ever not?" he asked in the same exact tone that Crane had given when Abbie had warned him against Wasabi during his first taste of sushi. "I like chips." He took one between his two fingers and moved to take a bite. At Abbie's continued glare he relented. "Oh wait, tell me you are not one of those health food nuts?"

She shrugged then just as she had shrugged when Crane had taken a rather large dollop of the green death and shoved it into his maw. "You're funeral." She sighed not sure how to proceed.

He placed the offending object back into the basket in front of him and dusted his hands with great flourish. "Miss Mills." He began again. "I have a series of questions."

"I am sure you do, but do me a favor?" she asked leaning closer into his space. "Stick to the coffee here. The last time we—I was here my…friend wasn't very nice."

"Oh?" he asked raising one eyebrow. "How so?"

Abbie shook her head and was going to offer a simple explanation when Florence, the waitress showed again with their bill. "That was fast." Frederick noted.

Abbie kicked him under the chair to keep him quiet while offering Florence a feigned visage of mock sincerity. It must not have been her most convincing of smiles because Florence finally spoke her mind. "I think it is a rude shame." She began, arms folded across her savagely large frame. "That you people come back in here after the mess you made last time."

"I am so sorry Ms. Florence." Abbie said.

The large woman sniffed and ticked her head toward the counter. "Petie got fired after all of that. He's been the cook here for ten years." She huffed.

Ah yes, Abbie recalled now. _Petie_ had not been so salacious about his short orders being critiqued. Abbie recalled he had come from the kitchen wielding an ancient spatula. "We'll be gong now." Abbie offered rising with a nod toward her companion.

"But I still haven't eaten." Frederick uttered with a petulance that would put a five year old denied McDonald's to shame.

"We'll hit a drive thru." Abbie assured him as she tossed a twenty on the table and slid out of the booth. Frederick followed in step behind her and had the decency to wait until they were in the car again before the onslaught of questions. "Well, that was pleasant." He said. "And I am still hungry. Miss Mills, I am certain that there are other establishments available for luncheon?"

Abbie pulled the car out of the gravel lot and tried to take a mental note of where they had not eaten together. The only places were fancier restaurants that would still house people from town that Crane had been familiar with. Like people from the Historical society and the reenactors he had become too friendly with over that year.

An idea lit across her face and changed the slope of her cheeks. He had been staring at her since they left the diner and noticed the change. "You have thought of a place?" he asked.

Abbie shook her head then nodded. "No and yes." She affirmed. His look of confusion broadened her smile and reminded her of the past. "I thought we could grab some take out and go back to the Archives. You have a lot of questions and I think that's a safe place to have this conversation

Frederick turned to look out of the front window and nodded. "Thank you." He said. "Because Froence, the food purveyor back there had referred to both of us having been there before. I need to know, Miss Mills. What is happening?"

"Twenty minutes." She sighed. "You waited this long and came across an ocean for the truth. Twenty minutes and some hot soup isn't going to be that much more."

Frederick said nothing and Abbie took his silence as agreement.

XxXxXxXxXxX

By the time the entered the old room laden with bags that Abbie had retrieved from the restaurant that had been Crane's favorite dive, it was late afternoon. She had checked in with the station who were more than happy to cover the remained of her shift in the name of her recent reunion. Irving had even left a message on her phone to take the next day off and give Crane his best.

They all had no idea.

He made himself comfortable in only that way that Crane had been able to; fussily arranging napkins and plates and large cups of soup. Abbie pulled up the other chair and opened her cheeseburger and salad. She had gotten Frederick Crane's favorite and lied to herself about it not being a trick.

He sat across from her stirring the chili with his plastic spoon as if debating whether or not to eat it. She took the cup from him and arranged the meal the way Crane had liked it; Chili over fries, cheese and sour cream on top of the chili and onions enough to cover the whole damn thing. She slid it back across the table and watched the tall man endeavor to figure out where to start.

"You had some questions?" she asked between forkfuls of her side salad. She suddenly had a drive to tell him the truth; to tell him everything and get it off of her chest. He would believe her; she knew he would because he had seen the evidence himself.

He finally stabbed his fork into the large meal and ate. The look on his face was just like the first time that Jenny had introduced Crane to Chili Cheese Fries. "MMMMM That is remarkable." He hummed.

She smiled and allowed the memories to float through her for the moment. "Yeah, I thought you would like it."

"I had doubts." He agreed with another ferocious bite. "Quite honestly I have never had anything quite like it."

Watching him then Abbie realized that she had missed this; eating together and watching him eat. Crane had a voracious appetite and a sweet tooth that would have kept Willie Wonka in the black. But, most of all she missed watching him eat. He could finish off his plate then eye hers too. Often, she shoved her leftovers at him and would wave off his feigned gentlemanly reluctance.

Here, if the wicked witch of the west was to be believed, in front of her was the embodiment of Ichabod Crane, made anew by occult interference from his wife. She watched him dig through the chili and cheese to the fries at the bottom to ensure proper coating of all the potato wedges.

He had passed whatever rudimentary test she had laid out with the Chili Cheese Fries. Although, in fairness, who wouldn't find them the pinnacle of American culinary experiences? His reaction to them was more than similar to Crane's reaction

He even ate the damn thing the same way.

"Miss Mills," he said breaking her reverie. "Why do you suppose that woman at the diner seemed to recall me—us?" he asked in such a simple way but Abbie could tell he had been considering the most diplomatic way of broaching the subject that she had been avoiding all afternoon. Three days into an acquaintance and he already knew to handle her so she wouldn't run.

"It's not a simple story. Nor is it short and easy to be believed. Once I tell you this," she said pushing her empty plate away from her. "You will want to take me to Tarrytown Psych."

"I doubt that." He insisted still working his way through Mount Cholesterol. "While I cannot say I have had your acquaintance for long, I can attest to your being the very picture of sanity. At least from what I have seen."

"Give it ten minutes." Abbie smiled. "You'll have the men in white coats here faster than you can say "Bob's yer Uncle." She smiled at her horrible British accent. He glared at her as if she had grown a second head. "Right, I will never do that one again.

"Thank god," she smiled. "I would have called the psych ward based on that impersonation alone."

"You wanna hear this story or not?" she asked in mock offense.

"As long as it is not with that dreadful accent. Proceed."


	13. Chapter 13

'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood,  
>That we must curb it upon others' proof;<br>To be forbod the sweets that seem so good,  
>For fear of harms that preach in our behoof.<br>O appetite, from judgment stand aloof!  
>The one a palate hath that needs will taste,<br>Though Reason weep, and cry, 'It is thy last.'

_**Later…..**_

"Let him go," Abbie warned with a shake of her mahogany locks. "He's his own person, Katrina. Let. Him. Go."

She shrugged her papery frail shoulder with a surprisingly agile twist. "I never had him in the first place, Miss Abigail." She tittered.

Abbie knew this was going to go tits up at some point; she had tried to keep him safe, knowing he had no dog in this fight. But fate was cruel, insistent and rarely bested.

Abbie twisted the gun in her hands and considered the scene in front of her. Somehow, Katrina had Frederick pinned to the wall, high up into the vaulted ceiling of the old great room. Jenny was still passed out on the old moldy rug in front of her and Katrian was as bat shit crazy as usual.

"Let him go, Katrina. Its over,." She moved closer to the old witch, advanced upon her slowly . "Ichabod is gone, and you have lived way outside of your freshness date."

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_**Earlier….**_

Abbie moved her fries around the Styrofoam plate in front of her, eyes downcast. She took a deep breath and with it a silent prayer that Frederick Crane was both open minded and did not have the psych ward on speed dial. Fuck it she thought with a shake of her shoulders. "You asked about my interest in Ichabod Crane, I was not as…forthcoming as I could have, no should have been."

His eyes were trained on the woman across from him,. His face an open yet anticipatory visage. "You weren't?"

"I am interested in Ichabod Crane because I know Ichabod Crane. Knew him…I guess that would be the better tense, the proper tense."

He had stopped chewing his mountain of debauchery and fixed her with a glare. "You mean you knew of him?"

Abbie shook her head. "No, I mean I knew him. Personally." Biblically

Frederick pushed himself back in his chair and folded his arms in a way that Abbie was all to familiar with. He was gearing up for a Crane sized rant and she could not help but look forward to it. "So what you are telling me." He began, "Is that you, what, travelled in time?"

Abbie shook her head. "Not me." She smiled as she drew her phone out from her coat pocket. It was the attempt at a selfie from what felt like a lifetime ago. Crane was attempting to take a picture on the phone and failing epically. She brought up the video and pushed it toward the man in front of her.

To his credit, he waited until watching the full video before giving commentary. "Hmnmm," he hedged. "They say everyone has a twin, I am assuming you have found my doppelganger."

Abbie sipped her soda dramatically and shook her head. "I knew this was a bad idea," she muttered then tried to recall why she felt the need to even share her stories with this man

Because he reminds me of Crane, the voice inside her head cut through. Because he is the closest I have been to him in over six months and I am seeing an oasis in the desert.

Frederick sniffed but went on; still watching the video for what must have been the third time. "Why is he dressed like that?" he asked. "Who is he?"

"Your ancestor. Ichabod Crane."

Frederick wore the face of a man who had been told about aliens only after having been abducted twelve times. "It makes sense." He said finally after a too long silence that left Abbie wondering if she could hit Frederick in the head and pretend it was brain damage.

Abbie cocked her head and raised one skeptical eyebrow in the universal manner to let someone know they were full of shit.

"No, no I am not trying to placate you Miss Mills. This," he flourished a slender hand over the still replaying video. "Makes too much sense." Frederick sped over to the still packed box of relics he had spirited over the day before. He tucked the package between his arm and hip and paraded over to the table where Abbie was still trying to believe what she was hearing.

Frederick began carefully extracting the pieces onto the table, gingerly as he had the day before. "You still haven't gone over these things?" he parried with an odd look in her direction.

4A shrug and a shake of her head were small in explaining the multitude of emotion that Crane's ghosts had elicited in her. "It'll keep." She tried flippantly.

"It most certainly will not keep." He asserted arranging the items in front of her. "If what you are saying is true—"

"It is," Abbie asserted. Hands tucked together into her lap. There was a fear edging at her, a nameless breathless alacrity that hedged with the sullen fear that made Abbie both fidget and withdraw all at once.

He stopped when the items were arranged and took a moment to look at the face of the young woman. "What is it?" Frederick asked. "What's wrong?" She did not strike him as the kind of woman who feared, more of the kind who was feared. And yet, here she seemed the size of a kindergartner just pulled into the school parking lot for the very first time.

Abbie shook her head and refused to meet his gaze. The face was the same, oh there were small differences but it was still his face, still his voice. And yet…."I'm fine, Freddy."

He seemed to cringe at the moniker but did not correct her. "He, this Ichabod Crane. How did he get here?"

In for a penny, in for a pound, Abbie mused silently. She told him all she could recall but nothing personal and nothing about that last night. That was hers, theirs. She did not wish to share that with anyone, even someone who walked around Sleepy Hollow wearing Crane's face.

Frederick listened to her story; he nodded when he should and laughed when it was appropriate. Abbie's story remained uninterrupted which left her at the end with her hands splayed in front of her.

Frederick Crane offered her a look of understanding. "You were in love with him." He accused.

Abbie folded her arms and gave her best constabulary stare; the one that usually brokered no argument with rowdy drunks and unrepentant teenage fuckboys. "Are you saying you believe all of this?" she asked with a sweep over the displayed items.

Frederick did not answer, his hand splayed across the old journal and pushed it toward her. "have you read this yet?" he asked.

Abbie shook her head and swallowed. There was only so much she could deny. "I, um…." She shook her head and felt the sting of fresh tears in the corners of her doe eyes. "Wait, you said you haven't looked at any of this."

Frederick stood and grabbed for the old accordion folder to his left. "No, I have notl. But there are some things that at too glaring to be missed." He thumbed the folder and smiled. "Its often the things we try hardest to hide that are the most easily seen. "

Her blood ran cold at his words; they were nearly in the exact same positions as when Crane said those words to her. Even in the same room. "That's not…" she tried meekly.

Frederick shook his head and removed a stack of papers from the leather folder. "This," he flourished. "Is one of them."

Abbie took the papers from his hands and stared. Bank statements. "What is all of this?" she asked thumbing through the documents. Documents with her name on them.

"What do you think it is?" he offered with a shrug. "Apparently, you have had an account at Barclays since 1784."

She tore through the pages, nothing about the length of the account in her name, but it was there, the account balance. "There's over thirty million pounds here." She accused.

Yes, and that has been added to from the initial account started in 1784 of 1 million pounds." He shuffled through some of the documents she had set down.

He smiled then, a dazzling crinkled thing that struck her as so reminiscent of her Crane that she nearly choked, "I would imagine for Ichabod Crane, it was a drop in the bucket. " he shrugged again. "God knows the bulk of his wealth was spent keeping his son out of the Old Bailey. Truly a wonder there was anything left to pass down with that one."

Abbie honed in on that. The allusions to Henry's fate had left her questing since the day before. "What happened to Jeremy Crane?" she asked. Still clutching the bank statements in her hand.

"You've just discovered you are a singularly wealthy woman and you ask about Jeremy Crane?" Frederick asked with a lift of his eyebrow.

"He was…." She shrugged. "Some of the things that Crane and I went through were due to his son."

Frederick nodded in the fading light of the Archives room. She had told him so much of what had transpired in those two years and yet she somehow felt naked in front of him, as if telling him the clinical parts of her life with Ichabod Crane had somehow left her personal side so open, raw and swollen.

"He started out a decent enough fellow." Frederick began nonchalantly, picking at the remains of his lunch. "He was packed off to Oxford, Merton College just like his father."

Abbie nodded; of course the legacy would be wont to continue. She imagined Crane would have moved heaven and earth to ensure doing everything the right way with Jeremy.

And yet.

"The trouble began in his first few months away from his parents. Drinking, gambling, carrying on with…less than desirables outside of his class."

"Heavens forbid," Abbie mumbled, knowing full well that in that time, she would have been classified in that particular description.

As if reading her mind, Frederick shook his head. "No, the Cranes weren't

"Its like that." He insisted. "They would not have cared what station of people their son canoodled with as long as they were…respectable."

"I'm sure," Abbie muttered recalling her BBC drama list on Netflix. "So what happened?"

Frederick sighed and went on. "He barely finished his initial studies, and not at Merton. He was summarily booted for his endless number of brushes with the law." Frederick leaned back into his chair. "He took a commission in the navy, then became a pirate."

"Are you for real?" she asked barely believing.

"More of a smuggler really. The parents had cut him off after too many accrued debts they no longer wanted to pay. He was booted from the navy, for reasons you can only imagine given his…predilections."

Abbie sighed, suddenly sad for Crane. What must he have gone through knowing his only child was lost to him all over again, even with him being there. "So what finally happened to him?"

Frederick seemed uncomfortable recounting the story of Jeremy Crane. "Jeremy Crane finally met the fate his actions had laid out for him. He was hanged at the Old Bailey for murder. Left his parents a string of bastards that turned up after his death. The only legitimate child was a boy, Nathaniel, the child of the woman Jeremy was hanged for killing. He was five when the Cranes took him in"

So much loss and sadness. Crane had done everything right and still, Jeremy did not grow to be the man his father had dreamed of. "That's the saddest thing I have heard in a while." She said.

He nodded in agreement and began to finger the journal again. "You asked how I knew you, when I saw you on the street yesterday?" he hedged with his hand on the journal.

"Something in there you want me to see?" she asked drawing herself together.

He smiled then; his long fingers twisted the journal to face her and pushed the journal closer to her. "I did not read it," he insisted. "But when I saw this picture…." Frederick shrugged and flipped open the cover of the old leather journal. The first page was an intricate drawing of Abbie.

She placed her hands on the page and felt her breath hitch. Crane had always had a penchant for sketching and she could see it was his work. It had to be, the facial expression and detail was so intimately accurate that she knew it was done by his hand. "Yeah, " she nodded. "I can see why you so readily believed me."

"And don't worry, Miss Mills. Abbie." He spoke. "Your story is safe with me. I don't think anyone would believe me anyway."

"Probably not." She grinned, eyes still fixed upon the drawing. Abbie could feel his weighted stare even with her eyes pinned to the drawing. It was the oddest sensation uncovering these mysteries with notCrane staring at her. "But thank you." She said through thick tones. "For this, for all of this." She finally raised her eyes and felt as if she was looking on Frederick Crane for the first time. Not as a man who looked like Ichabod, but as his own sentient person. He had been the most recent keeper of this madness, the one who knew the full story. The first one to know the story since Crane himself.

He nodded then, "It's more for myself, Abbie." He insisted. "I have been obsessed with this mystery since time out of mind." He stretched and rose from his seat, Frederick glanced around the darkened room as if only realizing how long he had been in the room. "And thank you, fort sharing this with me."

Abbie waved him off and shook her head. "I am just sorry you had to be in on such a crazy story. You might need therapy now yourself."

Frederick shook his head solemnly. "Don't do that," he insisted. "Don't make light of something that meant so much to you."

Abbie was struck by the sincerity of his words, his gaze. As if her face was again the open book two Cranes had accused it of being, Frederick stood quickly and seemed offended. He shook his own head and laid a hand on his chest suddenly. "My God!" Frederick swore. "I am such an ass. What it must do to you to see me, here, like this. "

Abbie rose and placed her hands out in front of her. "Whoa, chill. " She insisted. "It's good, Mr. Crane, this, this is all right." She found herself a smile buried somewhere under six months of sorrow. "This is, a good way for me to move forward."

"I see." Frederick nodded curtly but remained standing. Abbie figured he had run right out of crazy and was full up on sad stories. "Just the same, I—"

"Abs!" Jenny's voice broke from across the room. "You really need to learn how to answer your ph—Oh, I see." She said skidding to a stop mere feet away from Frederick.

"Hello," he offered with his right hand.

"Jenny shook his hand firmly and quickly. She let his hand slide from hers and turned on her sister. "Been looking for you."

"Obviously." Frederick's tilted head rendered a sigh from the diminutive woman. With a wave of her hand she made introductions in an offish manner and smiled as Frederick realized he was meeting his pen pal. Abbie moved around the desk and came to stand beside the younger woman. "What's up?"

Jenny looked between the man and woman in the room b before shuddering with a distinct feeling of déjà vu. "Your phone is off," she nodded as if an answer. "And you weren't at your desk." She looked between them again. "Couldn't figure out a reason for you to be here in the archives…sooooo….I checked and Surprise, surprise."

Abbie nodded as she fished her phone out of her jacket pocket not realizing she had turned it off after showing Frederick the video. She had. The phone came to life and displayed Jenny's missed calls and texts along with a host of notifications. She was about to put the phone away again when it rang in her hand.

She did not recognize the number.

"Miss Mills," the airy voice answered on the other side of the phone. She founded far away and the voice came through like an old Victrola player. "I need for you to come. Now."

Annoyed, Abbie turned away from the gathering and began to walk toward the door. "This isn't how this is going to work. I don't come when you call."

The voice took on a harder edge, "Miss Mills, it is for your benefit I am doing this. The least you could do is follow directions."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" Abbie spit into the phone, not realizing her voice had begun to ratchet toward a fearful crescendo. Both Frederick and Jenny moved toward her as she went on. "You don't run this, Katrina." She jammed the red button to end the call.

"Again?" Jenny asked, arms folded.

Abbie nodded yes and moved to speak but Frederick was faster. "I have to ask, given all the history you have told me of."

"You told him?" Jenny asked with a grimace.

"Focus," Abbie insisted. "One thing at a time." She motioned for Frederick to continue.

"As I was saying," he went on. "There is no coincidence with the name, Katrina?" he asked with that singular eyebrow rebelliously elevated.

Abbie and Jenny exchanged a look before the older sister spoke up. "This isn't something I would have you get involved with Mr. Crane." She said.

He bristled at her rejection. "Miss Mills, it is my family lineage. If this is something involving Katrina Crane then I have a right to be involved."

Abbie shook her head knowing he had some right but not for the reasons he had just laid out. He had believed her story, had not once carried the visage of disbelief and had merely accepted it as fact. He had come across an ocean armed with a litany of evidence of Crane's existence in this time.

He deserved to know; maybe he deserved to go to Fredericks Manor as well. But, he did not deserve to be erased. Of that, Abbie was certain. What right did Katrina have to erase someone for existence? And what right did she herself have to have a modicum of hope to have the man she loved back at the cost of another man's life?

She knew what Katrina was proposing, and she knew that the ancient thing had to be ended before she nullified Frederick Crane. Her Crane would never have allowed it and would not want that guilt to live in . Ichabod Crane had lived an entire life, had made choices and bifurcations in roads both more and less traveled. Frederick Crane deserved to have those choices, those experiences.

Finally, she nodded toward the shade of the man she once knew. "All right, I will bring you with me, but you need to know everything."

"I thought you already spilled all of that," Jenny fumed, hooked her thumb at the man next to her.

Abbie fixed her sister with another death glare. "He knows most of it, not about the Katrina part of it."

"So it is Katrina Crane then?" Frederick mused, slipping his wallet and keys back into his pockets.

"Whoa, so he goes, no arguing?" Jenny said.

Abbie shrugged. "I intend to stop her; I need some kind of back up." She looked at her sister who was sure to explode at any given time.

"I need to know why she needs to be stopped." Frederick asked. "And how in the hell is she still alive this long?"

Jenny's patience had eroded, she held her hands up and spoke. "Whoa, ok, obviously you gave Ditto here the Reader's Digest version." She accused. "And if Freddy gets to go, then so do I."

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End file.
